rrowed very slightly; then she gave one of her
bright laughs.

"Then come back with me to the Riviera! Any English people worth
studying will be found there. Change your plans! Come back with me!"

Clodagh looked up. She was uncertain whether the suggestion had been
made in jest or earnest, and the smiling, searching glance of her
hostess did not enlighten her. With a slight feeling of embarrassment,
she broke off abruptly into another channel of talk.

"And how is Mr. Barnard?" she asked.

"Barny! Oh, optimistic as ever!"

"Then there is one amusing person left in England!"

Lady Frances laughed.

"Only temporarily. He takes his holiday next month. Last March he
joined the Luards and me in Naples, and we all went on to Sicily. It
was tremendous fun."

She laughed again over some recollection; and entered upon a history of
her Sicilian adventures that occupied the rest of dinner.

At the termination of the meal, however, when the waiters had brought
in coffee and silently retired, she dropped her reminiscent tone, and,
rising from table, moved back to the divan, which was drawn pleasantly
near to a bright wood fire.

"Come here, and let's be comfortable!" she said. "I always have a
cigarette after dinner. I forget whether you smoke."

Clodagh smiled, as she came slowly forward.

"Not since my cousin and I used to smoke in the top branches of an
apple tree in Ireland. I should be afraid to try the experiment again;
I might lose an illusion. No other cigarettes could taste like those
stolen ones!"

She gave a little sigh, then a little laugh, and seated herself.

Lady Frances looked up from the cigarette she was drawing from her
case.

"Illusions!" she said. "Why, life is all illusions at your age!" She
paused; then, after a moment's silence, went on again, but in a slower,
more considered voice: "You thought I was jesting at dinner, when I
asked you to come south with me. But I wasn't. I meant it." She struck
a match and lighted her cigarette. "You don't know how you would enjoy
Nice. You lost yourself in the delights of roulette at Venice. Think
what Monte Carlo would be!"

With a sudden tumultuous confusion, Clodagh flushed.

"I--I have ceased to care about things like that," she said in a
hurried voice.

Lady Frances's expression changed to one of deep interest, sharpened by
surprise.

"Ceased to care?" she repeated softly. "Since when? And why?"

"Since"--Clodagh hesitated--"oh, since that