Placed by circumstances in a singularly isolated position—springing from a race in whom love of power, love of admiration, love of love itself are inherent qualities—it is not to be wondered at that, in the first flush of her realised sovereignty over men, she should view the world from a slightly giddy altitude.
No one grudges her triumphs and her innocent intrigues to the girl in her first season. Humanity looks on indulgently while she breaks her first lance with the candid joy, the pardonable egotism that is bred of youth. And, incongruous as it may sound, Clodagh's was the position of the debutante. She was comprehending for the first time—and comprehending with accumulated emotion—the fact that she possessed an individual path in life. And with the arrogance of inexperience, she sprang to the conclusion that every foot crossing that path, should yield her a toll of homage.
And now one foot had crossed it without pause, without even a desire to linger! Her cheeks burned under the smart of her hurt vanity, as she turned from the little group that surrounded Lady Frances Hope, and allowed Deerehurst to lead her across the salon. Her emotions were many and confused, but one personality occupied her thoughts against the angry expostulations of her reason. By an illogical, but very human sequence of impressions, Sir Walter Gore had, in one moment, become the most objectionable—and the most interesting—person of her acquaintance.
As she stepped out upon the balcony, Deerehurst drew forward the low chair that she had occupied the night before; and she sank into it with a little sigh. For the first time in the glamour of her new-found excitement, she felt glad to escape from the crowd and the lights of the salon.
For a while her companion made no effort to break the silence that she seemed anxious to preserve, then at last he changed his position, stepped softly forward, and laid his hand on the back of her chair.
"Is what Barnard tells me true?" he asked. "Are you really leaving Venice in a week?"
She bent her head without looking up.
"But surely we can persuade you——"
His voice quickened, then broke off, as Clodagh turned to him.
"Does it matter to any one whether I go or stay?" she asked in a slightly tremulous voice.