en 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
drivin