I'll brush your hair for you." It goes without saying that Kitty had her way--it was a very kind-hearted way--and before long Nan was sipping her glass of milk and gratefully realising the illimitable comfort which a soft bed brings to weary limbs.
"By the way, I've some news for you," announced Kitty, as she sat perched on the edge of the bed, smoking one of the tiny gold-tipped cigarettes she affected.
"News?
What news ?" "Well, guess who's coming here ?" Nan named one or two mutual friends, only to be met by a triumphant negative.

Finally Kitty divulged her secret.
"Why, Peter Mallory!" The glass in Nan's hand jerked suddenly, spilling a few drops of the milk.
"Peter ?" She strove to keep all expression out of her voice.
"Yes.

He finds he can come after all.

Isn't it jolly ?" "Very jolly." Nan's tones were so non-committal that Kitty looked at her with some surprise.
"Aren't you pleased ?" she asked blankly.

She was relying tremendously on Peter's visit to restore Nan to normal, and to prevent her from making the big mistake of marrying Roger Trenby, so that the lukewarm reception accorded to her news gave her a qualm of apprehension lest his advent might not accomplish all she hoped.
"Of course I'm pleased!" Nan forced the obviously expected enthusiasm into her affirmative, then, swallowing the last mouthful of milk with an effort, she added: "It'll be topping." Kitty took the glass from her and with an admonishing, "Now try and have a good sleep," she departed, blissfully unconscious of how effectually she herself had just destroyed any possibility of slumber.
Peter coming! The first thrill of pure joy at the thought of seeing him again was succeeded by a rush of apprehension.