"Yes," he said, "I have found a friend!"
His cold eyes gave point to the words.
She laughed and coloured. Again she was conscious of Barnard's amused, speculative gaze; but also she was conscious of the quiet, slightly critical eyes of her new acquaintance. Goaded by the double spur, she glanced up into Deerehurst's face.
"Well?" she said. "And now?"
"Now I am in my friend's hands."
He made a profound and eloquent bow.
Again she coloured, but again vanity and mortification stirred her blood. With a winning movement, she took a step forward.
"Your friend would like to listen to philosophy on the balcony," she said in a recklessly low voice.
CHAPTER IX
To the superficial student of Clodagh's character, this development of a phase in her mental growth may present itself as something distasteful—even unworthy; but to the serious student of human nature, with its manifold and wonderful complexities, it must perforce come clothed in a different guise.