He put out his hand, and as he did so, a sudden expression of pride and affection softened his hard face.
"Here's the wildest scapegrace of an Asshlin you've met yet, James," he said.
"Shake hands with him, Clo!" he added in a different voice. "He's a symbol, if you only knew it. He stands for the great glory we must all leave behind us. The glory of youth!" His voice sank suddenly to a lower key, and he raised his glass. "Go on, child!" he added more quickly. "Shake hands with him; tell him he's welcome."
But Clodagh's flow of speech had been silenced. With a suggestion of the shyness that marked her sister, she came round the table as Milbanke rose.
She made no remark as she proffered her hand, and she did not smile as Nance had done. Instead, her bright eyes scanned his face with a quick, questioning interest.
In return, he looked at her clear skin, her level eyebrows and proudly held head; and his awkwardness vanished as he took the slight muscular hand still cold from the night mist.
"How d'you do?" he said. "I've been hearing of you."
Again Clodagh coloured, and glanced at her father.
"What were you telling him, father?" she asked with native curiosity.
Once more Asshlin laughed loudly.