Following the custom of the place, they headed for the point where the idle and the pleasure-seeking of Venice gather nightly to listen to the music, and lazily watch the swaying paper lanterns of the musician's gondolas.
Clodagh sat silent as they skimmed onward. She was bending slightly forward, her whole attitude an unconscious typifying of expectancy; her hands were lightly clasped in her lap, and again the hazel of her eyes was darkened by their dilated pupils.
As the gondola slackened speed and the music became nearer, more distinct, Lord Deerehurst, who had been covertly studying her, leant suddenly close to her.
"You are a great appreciator of the beautiful, Mrs. Milbanke!" he said in his thin, high-bred voice.
Clodagh started; and, glancing from one to the other of the three men, laughed shyly.
"Why do you say that?" she asked.
"Because I have presumed to watch your face."
She blushed; and Barnard, feeling rather than seeing her embarrassment, made haste to reassure her.
"Mrs. Milbanke is an adept in the appreciation of beauty," he said with a laugh. "She was brought up on the study of it."
Again Clodagh coloured, and again she gave a shy laugh.