"Poor you!" she said easily. "What a bore! You must let me settle up our differences at once—to-day."
She rose and pushed back her chair.
A look of surprise crossed the older woman's face—this time it was surprise tempered with bewilderment.
"To-day! But can you? I know how many little expenses——" She waved her hand expressively towards the breakfast-table, with its many costly adjuncts.
Clodagh made a lofty gesture of denial; and, walking across the room, paused beside her bureau.
For a minute there was no sound in the room save the abrupt opening and shutting of one or two small drawers; then Clodagh turned round again, a cheque-book in her hand.
"Now tell me what I owe you," she said. "I'll write you a cheque and post-date it to July the first. Will that do? I draw my money then, you know."
"Perfectly. But, my dear Clodagh——"
But again Clodagh made a gesture that seemed to relegate the matter to a region of obscure—if not of absolutely contemptible—things.
"Don't trouble!" she said. "Money is never worth an argument. What do I owe?"