"Oh, sometime—perhaps!" Clodagh's tone was careless and light.
"This morning, then? Come for a ride with me."
She laughed once more, and shook her head.
"I have a letter—a terrible business letter—that must be written—a letter to Mr. Barnard."
Serracauld raised his eyebrows a trifle satirically.
"To Barny? Ah, then I shan't press the point. But how many dances am I to have to-night?"
"Dances? You know I shan't dance." She glanced down at her black linen dress.
He smiled a little.
"Am I a schoolboy, that I should want to dance? How many dances are we to sit out?"
"To sit out? Oh, I'll—I'll tell you that when we've sat out one." Without looking at him, she pushed back her chair, as Lady Diana rose.