Even under her manifest excitement, the delicate oval of the girl's face showed only a faint tinge of color. Miss von Schwarzenberg's round cheeks were richest carmine. "Oh, you've kept the car! That's right. I won't stop for a hat. Your scarf, Madge. Then I won't have to keep her waiting."
"But why must you--" Lady McIntyre began.
"She has rooms at the inn," said Miss von Schwarzenberg, with decision, as she wrapped Madge's scarf round her braids.
Yes, Lady McIntyre understood that. "But why should you be in such a hurry?"
"Oh, _I'm_ not in any hurry," said the girl. "Not now. I have been in a hurry--a terrible hurry for sixteen days. But now--" she smiled a bright contentment at her goal.
The instant application of Miss von Schwarzenberg's arm to her friend's waist was less for love, Napier felt sure, than as a means of propulsion. "You'd like to get unpacked, I'm certain."
Lady McIntyre, nervously anxious not to be inhospitable to Greta's visitor, declared she was not going to allow them to go till Miss Ellis had had some tea. Miss Ellis still stood looking at her friend with adoring affection. Plainly she was ready to do anything Greta liked--anything that didn't involve her losing sight of this face she'd traveled five thousand miles to see. Greta unwound her scarf.
"This is my daughter," said Lady McIntyre.
"Oh, are you 'Madge'? Of course, I've heard about you." Miss Ellis put out a hand.
Madge gave it a muscular shake and let go quickly. "How do?"
The stranger seemed not to notice. She accepted a double wedge of buttered scone from Bobby, and with great cheerfulness she deposited three lumps of sugar in her tea.
Miss von Schwarzenberg raised her eyes to Napier's face. He and Julian, several yards away, were leaning against the mantel-piece, pretending to discuss the Ulster situation.
As Miss von Schwarzenberg, across her friend, met Napier's look, she smiled ever so faintly, but with enormous meaning. "Behold a child of nature," the look said. Then, "Did you have a good passage, Nanchen?" she asked.
"Well, they _said_ it was a bad passage. I thought it perfectly glorious." Miss Ellis had taken a large slab of shortbread. Rapid disposal of it did not at all interfere with a description of the amenities of an unchaperoned sea voyage. Miss Ellis did not pause till, to the accompaniment of a crunch of gravel and voices outside, two young men could be descried coming up the middle of the drive. They were leading a couple of great, long-bodied, white dogs.