suppose no Englishman has enthusiasm?"

"We'll drop the subject," said Nora. "It is one I won't talk of; it
puts me into such a boiling rage to see you sitting like that."

Terence did not speak at all for a moment; then he said quietly:

"What is this thing that you have got to tell me? The five minutes
are nearly up, you know."

"Oh, bother your five minutes! I cannot tell you in five minutes.
When my heart is scalded with unshed tears, how can I measure time
by _minutes_? It has to do with father; it is worse than
anything that has ever gone before."

"What is it, Norrie?" Her brother's tone had suddenly become gentle.
He laid his hand for a moment on her arm; the gentleness of the tone,
the unexpected sweetness of the touch overcame Nora; she flung her
arms passionately round his neck.

"Oh, and you are the only brother I have got!" she sobbed; "and I
could love you--I could love you like anything. Can't you be
sympathetic? Can't you be sweet? Can't you be dear?"

"Oh, come, come!" said Terence, struggling to release himself from
Nora's entwining arms; "I am not made like you, you know; but I am
not a bad chap at heart. Now, what is it?"

"I will try and tell you."