She looked up, her face brimming with animation. Then suddenly and involuntarily she coloured. The young Englishman of the terrace was coming slowly down the stairs.
He descended nonchalantly, and as he reached the hall, he deliberately paused in front of the little group.
"Hallo, Barney!" he said easily. "Been playing much bridge this afternoon?"
Barnard looked round with his tactfully affable smile.
"Haven't had one rubber," he said.
"No?"
"No."
There was a pause—a seemingly unnecessary and pointless pause—in which Barnard looked suavely at the newcomer; the newcomer looked at Clodagh; and Clodagh looked fixedly out across the hall. Then at last the older man seemed to realise that something was expected of him. With a gay gesture, he metaphorically swept the silence aside.
"Mrs. Milbanke," he said affably, "will you permit me to present my friend Mr. Valentine Serracauld?"
CHAPTER III