"Clo!" he said. "I say, Clo!"
But she swept his hand aside.
"No!—no!" she exclaimed. "I don't want you!—I don't want you! I never want to speak to you again. You are hateful—detestable——"
With a swift movement, she pushed past his outstretched arm and flew up the stairs.
In her bedroom Hannah was hovering about between the washstand and dressing-table, a lighted candle in one hand, a carafe of water in the other. At the sight of her mistress she laid both her burdens down with a cry of delight.
"My darlin'!" she exclaimed. "An' is it thrue? Tim heard the word of it an' he carryin' the cheese out of the dinin'-room; but sure I wouldn't belave him——"
But Clodagh checked her.
"Don't be a fool, Hannah!" she cried, almost fiercely; and turning her face from the old servant's scrutinising eyes, she walked across the room towards the bed.
For a moment Hannah stood like an ungainly statue; then she nodded to herself—a nod of profound and silent wisdom—and tip-toeing out of the room, closed the door behind her.
Instantly she was alone, Clodagh began to undress. With hysterical impetuosity she tore off each garment and threw it untidily upon the floor; then slipping into bed, she buried her hot face in the pillows and burst into a violent, unreasoning torrent of tears.