Invariably quick to follow a train of thought, she gave a short, comprehending laugh.
"Oh, I know what you are thinking of!" she cried. "I don't look as if I belong to the wilds. People never understand that dressing is a knack that comes to women, and does not really mean anything."
He smiled, amused against his will.
Again she laughed, like a child who has been praised.
"Oh, it's quite true!" she added. "I could tell you of dozens of cases——"
But her flow of confidence was suddenly terminated. Valentine Serracauld, catching sight of her through the throng of people, had made a hasty way towards her. His finely cut colourless face was animated and his dark grey eyes looked excited.
"How d'you do?—how d'you do, Mrs. Milbanke?" he exclaimed. "Please congratulate me! I've had a run of luck! Netted seventy pounds!"
Clodagh's lips parted.
"Seventy pounds!" she said breathlessly, and instinctively she turned to Gore. But Gore's place was empty. At Serracauld's approach, he had moved unostentatiously away.
At the knowledge that he was gone, a sense of disappointment fell upon her. She glanced uncertainly at Deerehurst.