"My dear, you are just the sweetest thing I have come across this side
of the Atlantic," she said, when they were whizzing along in her car.
"But you look as if you wanted cheering too. I expect your husband's
illness has worried you a good deal."

Theodora froze a little. Then she glanced at the widow's face and its
honest kindliness melted her.

"Yes, I have been anxious about him," she said, simply, "but he is
nearly well now, and we shall soon be going to England."

Mrs. McBride had not taken a companion on this drive for nothing, and
she obtained all the information she wanted during their tour in the
Bois. How Josiah Brown had bought a colossal place in the eastern
counties, and intended to have parties and shoot there in the autumn.
How Theodora hoped to see more of her sisters than she had done since
her marriage. The question of these sisters interested Mrs. McBride a
good deal.

For a man to have two unmarried daughters was rather an undertaking.

What were their ages--their habits--their ambitions? Theodora told her
simply. She guessed why she was being interrogated. She wished to assist
her father, and to say the truth seemed to her the best way. Sarah was
kind and humorous, while Clementine had the brains.

"And they are both dears," she said, lovingly, "and have always been so
good to me."