"Oh no," he objected after a short pause—"oh no. If you're not game for it, then the meet is off so far as I'm concerned. I can't have you roaming about the country by yourself. Oh no; I hope I remember my obligations."
Milbanke looked distressed. With a genuine feeling of embarrassment he turned from one face to the other.
"My dear Denis," he objected feebly, "I must really beg of you——"
"Not another word!—not another word!" Asshlin ostentatiously helped himself to some ham, "I hope, James, that whatever our environments, we still understand the traditions of hospitality. If you don't feel on for it, there's no hunting for me to-day."
After this there was another unpleasant pause. Asshlin attempted to hide his chagrin, but his face was unmistakably dark with disappointment.
For a space Milbanke toyed with his breakfast, then he spoke again.
"But, my dear Denis, if you will only allow me——" he ventured.
But before Asshlin could reply, Clodagh's voice broke in.
"Oh! you needn't bother so much, father," she said easily. "You go to the meet, and I'll take Mr. Milbanke to Carrigmore. I'll drive him over in the pony-trap, or we'll walk—whichever he likes best."
She spoke fluently and gaily, and it was difficult for Milbanke to reconcile the high, buoyant tones of her voice with the serious note struck by her the night before. Filled with relief, however, at her timely interruption, he was satisfied to let the discrepancy go unregarded.