It was, therefore, with a cry of delight that she welcomed Sandy, who arrived in his two-seater shortly after Roger had ridden off to the meet. Lady Gertrude and Isobel had already gone out together, bent upon some parochial errand in the village, so that Nan was alone with her thoughts. And they were not particularly pleasant ones.
"Sandy!" She greeted him with outstretched hands. "You angel boy! I wasn't even hoping to see you for another few weeks or so."
"Just this minute arrived--thought it about time I looked you up again," returned Sandy cheerfully. "I met Trenby about a mile away and scattered his horses and hounds to the four winds of heaven with my stink-pot."
"Yes," agreed Nan reminiscently. "Why does your car smell so atrociously, Sandy?"
"It's only in slow movements--never in a presto. That's why I'm always getting held up for exceeding the speed limit. I'm bound to let her rip--out of consideration to the passersby."
"Well, I'm awfully glad you felt moved to come over here this morning. I'm--I'm rather fractious to-day, I think. Do you suppose Lady Gertrude will ask you to stay to lunch?"
"I hope so. But as it's only about ten-thirty a.m., lunch is merely a futurist dream at present."
"I know. I wonder why there are such enormous intervals between meals in the country?" said Nan speculatively. "In town there's never any time to get things in and meals are a perfect nuisance. Here they seem to be the only breaks in the day."
"That," replied Sandy sententiously, "is because you're leading an idle existence. You're not doing anything--so of course there's no time to do it in."
"Not doing anything? Well, what is there to do?" She flung out her hands with an odd little gesture of hopelessness. "Besides, I am doing something--I learned how to make puddings yesterday, and to-morrow I'm to be initiated into soup jellies--you know, the kind of stuff you trot around to old women in the village at Christmas time."
"Of course she can. But Lady Gertrude is appalled at my lack of domestic knowledge--so soup jellies it has to be."
Sandy regarded her thoughtfully. She seemed spiritless, and the charming face held a gravity that was quite foreign to it. In the searching winter sunlight he could even discern one or two faint lines about the violet-blue eyes, while the curving mouth, with its provocative short upper lip, drooped rather wearily at its corners.