en enjoying
yourself?"

With a certain vague confusion, she met his gaze.

"Yes," she answered. "I--I suppose so."

There was a short silence; and Gore, moving to the balcony railing,
rested his arm upon it.

"It is getting late," he said. "Time for us all to be thinking of our
hotels."

Again she looked at him in faint bewilderment.

"Yes. I--I suppose so," she said once more.

Another pause succeeded her halting words; then, with a gesture of
decision, Gore stood upright, bringing his glance back to her face.

"Mrs. Milbanke," he said suddenly, "let me take you home! I have a
gondola waiting at the steps."

The words were so totally unexpected that Clodagh remained mute, and,
leaning forward, looked down into the heavy shadows cast by the ancient
palace. There was a strange sensation of triumph in this unlooked-for
moment--in this sudden capitulation of a man who had previously ignored
her: a sensation before which all lesser things--Deerehurst's passion,
Serracauld's ardour, Barnard's friendship--became meaningless and
vague.

But Gore, guessing nothing from her bent head, glanced behind him
towards the salon.

"Well?" he said. "May I be your escort?"

Under cover of the dusk, Clodagh smiled.

"Mr. Barnard generally takes me home----"

Involuntarily Gore's figure stiffened.

"--But," she added in a low, quick whisper, "I--I would very much
rather go back with you!"

Under many conditions, the words would have seemed bold. But the manner
in which she uttered them disarmed criticism. Gore's face relaxed.

"Then let us make our escape!" he said. "Lady Frances is settling a
bridge dispute; and quite a dozen people have slipped away in the last
ten minutes. No one will question which of them has taken you home."

And Clodagh gave a short, light laugh of sudden pleasure. The small
conspiracy made Gore so much more human--drew them so much closer
together than they had been before.

"Yes!--yes!" she said eagerly. "And I am lunching with Lady Frances
to-morrow. I can explain then."

"Yes! Quite so! Now, if you are ready!"

He moved to the window.

Very quietly they re-entered the salon; and a flush crossed Clodagh's
face as she saw Deerehurst bending over a card-table with the nearest
approach to boredom and impatience she had ever known him to evince.
Her heart, already beating to the thought of her new conquest, gave an
added leap at this silent evidence of her power.

In the corridor outsid