"Shocked?"
"Yes, shocked." He nodded his head once or twice in genial gaiety. "There's no denying that the word 'adventuress' has a daunting sound. There was a danger signal in the very thought of a lady who might—under any conditions—have been notorious. Come now, confess!"
Clodagh looked from his amused, quizzical eyes to Serracauld's satirical, laughing ones, and a shadow of uncertainty—of doubt—crossed her own bright face. There was an element in this social atmosphere that she did not quite understand.
"Indeed——" she began hotly.
But Serracauld, whose glance had never left her own, bent forward quickly, looking up into her face.
"I say, Mrs. Milbanke," he cried, "let's refute the insinuation of this old inquisitor! Let's waive ceremony, and storm Lady Frances Hope in her citadel! She is always at home at this hour of night."
Clodagh looked up.
"To-night?" she said. "Oh, but how could I? I don't know her!"
Serracauld laughed.
"Oh, as for that, we're abroad, not in England! The greatest stickler for etiquette allows that there's a difference in the two conditions."