He paused and looked at her, his cold, pale eyes slow and searching in their regard.
"Not to-night—Circe," he said almost below his breath.
Clodagh coloured, gave another quick, excited laugh, and, moving past him, stepped through one of the open windows.
Gaining the balcony, she did not, as usual, drop into one of the deep lounge chairs; but, moving forward, stood by the iron railing and looked down upon the quiet canal.
The night was exceptionally clear, even for Italy. Every star was reflected in the smooth dark waters; while over the opposite palaces a crescent moon hung like a slender reaping-hook, extended from heaven to garner some mystic harvest.
For a moment Deerehurst hesitated to disturb her; but at last, waiving his scruples, he went softly forward, and stood beside her.
"Are you offended?" he asked in a very low voice.
"No!"
Her answer came almost absently; her eyes were fixed upon the moon.
"Then sad?"