let the spray of
honeysuckle slip inadvertently from between her fingers.

Instantly both Deerehurst and Serracauld stooped to recover it. The
younger man was successful; and, straightening himself quickly, wheeled
round to return it. Then his face fell; and again Deerehurst laughed.

Without a word, Clodagh had left the little group and disappeared into
the house.

CHAPTER VIII

At lunch time Clodagh sent word to Lady Diana Tuffnell that the long
ride in the morning sun had given her a headache, and that she would be
glad of a few hours' rest.

On receipt of the message, her hostess was much concerned, and came
herself to Clodagh's bedroom door to inquire whether she could be of
any use to the sufferer; but there, she was met by Simonetta, who
conveyed the intelligence that her mistress was asleep.

But in reality Clodagh was not sleeping--was not even lying down; she
was sitting in a low chair in the shadow of the drawn chintz curtains,
striving to solve the question of her future conduct. Would she remain
at Tuffnell and face the difficulties of her position? Would she turn
coward--and run away?

She passed in review the incidents of the morning, until, by persistent
contemplation of them, her humiliation kindled to anger. First, anger
against herself; then, anger against the world at large; lastly, anger
against Gore.

By the time afternoon tea was brought to her, the headache she had
feigned had become a reality; and before dinner time arrived she had
fallen into a state of miserable despondency. But scarcely had this
black mood taken possession of her, than a new and more intolerable
distress assailed her. She suddenly realised the gossip to which her
abrupt retirement might give rise. What would the house party think of
her disappearance? Would not Lady Frances Hope--if no one else--presume
that she was suffering from wounded vanity? The thought was
unendurable. No sooner did it present itself, than she sprang from her
chair in a fever of apprehension, and rang hastily for Simonetta.

Ten minutes before the dinner hour, she emerged from her room and
passed downstairs. Faint daylight was still filling the house, but
everywhere the lamps had been lighted, and the mellow double
illumination gave a curious softening effect to the old raftered
ceilings and panelled walls.

In the hall she was met by Lady Frances Hope, who paused and looked at
her scrutinisingly.

"What is the matter with you?"