"Well, here comes Rose!" she said. "Press her into your service! She won't refuse, if you give her Mr. Mansfeldt as a partner. The set she has made on that man the whole afternoon is perfectly disgraceful."
She turned with a smile to Mrs. Bathurst.
"Ah, Rose! How nice to see you! And you are just in time. We have been taking your name in vain."
Clodagh became the centre of a noisy party until dinner was announced. And during the meal itself, the same air of inconsequent gaiety was maintained in her regard, for she sat between Serracauld and his uncle.
A dozen topics were touched upon during the course of the meal—the latest sporting gossip, the latest social scandal, the latest Parisian play, all were discussed, and all laughed over the triviality of the world that has few prejudices, few responsibilities, fewer ideals.
From time to time, during the easy flow of this light talk, she found herself stealing surreptitious glances down the long table to where Gore was seated between Lady Diana Tuffnell and her sister; but not once did she surprise a glance from him. It seemed that he had very successfully banished her from his mind.
After dinner the whole party left the dining-room together, as was the custom at Tuffnell, some to play billiards, some to stroll in the gardens, others to find their way to the music-room, where Lady Diana usually gathered a little audience to listen to her singing. On this evening Clodagh was amongst the first to pass out of the dining-room; and moving into the centre of the hall, she paused and looked expectantly over her shoulder.
As she had anticipated, Deerehurst appeared almost at once, and came directly to her side.
"What is your pleasure?" he said. "Bridge?"
She looked up swiftly.