The old peer, who had been a cynical observer of the little scene, gave a thin laugh.
"Our friend Gore is fearful of contamination," he said, glancing at his nephew.
Serracauld laughed.
"Gore!" he said contemptuously. "Oh, Gore and I never did chum up! But where have you been hiding yourself all day?" He turned again to Clodagh. "We have had dark suspicions that old Barny has been buying up your society with Stock Exchange tips. Come, now, confess!" He paused and laughed, looking with intent admiration into her expressive face.
And Clodagh—sailing upon the tide of present things, elated by the eager interest of two men, and excited by the grudging interest of a third—forgot that, for every frail craft such as hers, there is an ultimate harbour to be gained, a future to be reckoned with. She lifted her head, met Serracauld's searching glance, and echoed his inconsequent laugh.
CHAPTER X
The next day Clodagh made one of a party to the Lido, and the same night accompanied Lady Frances Hope, Deerehurst, and Serracauld to a theatre; but on neither occasion did she meet, or even see, Sir Walter Gore.
On the afternoon of the second day, however, he again appeared upon the scene of her interests, and in an unexpected manner.
The hour was six; and she, with Barnard and Milbanke, was seated on the hotel terrace, chatting desultorily in the warmth of the early evening.
While they talked, a gondola glided up to the hotel steps; and in the glow of the waning sun, they saw Gore step from the boat, pause to give some order to the gondolier, and then mount the stone steps.