e her hostess's
name.

"Lady Diana!" she said, "here is Nance! You told me to bring her to you
before the first dance."

At her tone, so very soft and pleading, Lady Diana turned; and a
smile--the first real smile she had given her since the episode of two
nights ago--broke over her face.

"Yes," she said, with sudden geniality--"yes; that is quite right!
Leave her with me; I will find her the nicest men." She paused, and her
eyes travelled kindly from Clodagh's face to her black dress.

"And you? Won't you have some partners?" Her glance swept the little
group about her. "Walter, Mrs. Milbanke won't dance, but----"

At the moment that she spoke, Serracauld's light voice sounded from
behind them, and his slim figure emerged from the surrounding crowd.

"Ah, here you are, Mrs. Milbanke! I have a strong suspicion that I am
only just in time. Where shall we go? Into the music-room? Or out into
the garden?" Supremely ignoring the rest of the group, he offered
Clodagh his arm and led her out into the throng, at the moment that the
swaying notes of the first waltz floated down from the musicians'
gallery.

With a faint disappointment, warring with a faint elation, Clodagh
suffered him to guide her down the long ballroom. Life seemed suddenly
a brighter thing than it had seemed for days. Nance was with her; Lady
Diana had smiled on her again; and only a moment ago she had met Gore's
eyes in almost the first direct glance they had exchanged since his
coming to Tuffnell. She lifted her head in response to a sudden excited
happiness, as the dancers flashed past her over the polished floor, and
the deep, long notes of the violins vibrated on the air.

Unconsciously her fingers tightened on Serracauld's arm; and in instant
response, he paused.

"Can you resist?" he said.

She looked up at him. The colour had rushed into her face with the
emotion of the moment. An inordinate longing to be young--to enjoy--to
be as the crowd about her--swept her mind imperiously.

A peculiar look crossed Serracauld's eyes.

"Just for two minutes?" he whispered. "No one will see you in the first
crush. There is no waltz like this!" Almost before she was aware of it,
he had slipped his arm round her waist.

For an instant a gleam of surprise--of alarm--showed in her face; then
the long, persuasive notes of the stringed instruments dropped to a
lower, more enticing key. She yielded to the pressure of his arm, and
the two glided in among