Nan, who had risen at Kitty’s entrance, swayed suddenly and caught at the bed-post to steady herself.

“What did you say?” she asked huskily.

“That Peter’s wife is dead.  That he’s free”—­with great tenderness—­“free to marry you.”  She checked herself and peered into Nan’s white, expressionless face.  “Nan, why don’t you—­look glad?  You are glad, surely?”

“Glad?” repeated Nan vaguely.  “No, I can’t be glad yet.  Not yet.”

“You’re not worrying just because Peter was angry last time he saw you?”—­keenly.

“No.  I wasn’t thinking of that.”

“Then, my dear, why not be glad—­glad and thankful that nothing stands between you?  I don’t think you realise it!  You’re quite free now.  And so is Peter.  Your letter to Roger has gone—­poor Roger!”—­sorrowfully—­“it’s frightfully rough luck on him, particularly just now.  But still, someone always has to go to the wall in a triangular mix-up.  And though I like him well enough, I love you and Peter.  So I’d rather it were Roger, since it must be someone.”

Nan pointed to the bed.  On the gay, flowered coverlet lay the crumpled letter.

“My letter to Roger has not gone,” she said, speaking very distinctly.  “I was on my way to post it when I found you all in the hall, discussing Roger’s accident.  And now—­it can’t go.”

Kitty’s face lengthened in dismay, then a look of relief passed over it.

“Give it to me,” she exclaimed impulsively.  “I’ll post it at once.  It will catch precisely the same post as it would have done if you’d put it in the post-box when you meant to.”

“Kitty!  How can you suggest such a thing!” cried Nan, in horrified tones.  “If—­if I’d posted it unknowingly and it had reached him after the accident it would have been bad enough!  But to post it now, deliberately, when I know, would be absolutely wicked and brutal.”

There was a momentary silence.  Then: 

“You’re quite right,” acknowledged Kitty in a muffled voice.  She lifted a penitent face.  “I suppose it was cruel of me to suggest it.  But oh!  I do so want you and Peter to be happy—­and quickly!  You’ve had such a rotten time in the past.”

Nan smiled faintly at her.

“I knew you couldn’t mean it,” she answered, “seeing that you’re about the most tender-hearted person I know.”

“I suppose you will have to wait a little,” conceded Kitty reluctantly.  “At least till Roger is mended up a bit.  It may not be anything very serious, after all.  A man often gets a bad spill out of his car and is driving again within a few weeks.”

“We shall near soon,” replied Nan levelly.  “Sandy said he would let us know the result of the doctor’s examination.”

“Well, come for a stroll in the rose-garden, then.  It’s hateful—­waiting to hear,” said Kitty rather shakily.

“Get Barry to go with you.  I’d rather stay here, I think.”  Nan spoke quickly.  She felt she could not bear to go into the rose-garden where she had given that promise to Roger which bade fair to wreck the happiness of two lives—­her own and Peter’s.