"Not till you've answered mine."
"But this is personal—personal to you and me. The other is not."
He bent over her chair; and, seemingly by accident, his hand brushed her sleeve.
"Mrs. Milbanke——"
But even as his thin voice articulated her name, a shadow fell across the lighted window behind them; and Serracauld, characteristically easy and nonchalant in his movements, stepped on to the balcony.
Clodagh turned with a short, faint laugh. The beating of her heart was uneven, and her face felt hot.
"Mr. Serracauld," she said impulsively, "when is Sir Walter Gore coming to Venice? I have been asking Lord Deerehurst, but he cannot—or will not tell me."
Deerehurst, who at his nephew's approach had drawn quietly back into his seat, looked up with perfect composure.
"Yes, Valentine," he said smoothly, "I believe Gore has been making an impression by proxy."
Serracauld laughed.