He took her hand and bent over it, with even more than his usual deference, although his cold eyes shot a swift glance at her distressed face.
"But you must not say that," he said softly. "Things can always be compelled to go right."
She shook her head despondently.
"Not for me."
He freed her hand gently, and pointed to one of the stone seats that stood under the shadow of the rose bushes.
"Shall we sit down?" he said. "There is a great deal of repose to be found in this garden of Lady Diana's. She had it copied many years ago from my rose garden at Ambleigh."
Clodagh looked up at him, as they moved together across the grass.
"Indeed!" she said—"from your rose garden?"
"Yes; she and Tuffnell stayed with me at Ambleigh shortly after they were married—when my sister was alive. And Lady Diana fell in love with my rose garden. I remember I sent a couple of my gardeners down here to plant this one for her. It is an exact reproduction, on a smaller scale."
There was silence while they seated themselves; then Clodagh, looking meditatively in front of her at the evil face of one of the stone satyrs, spoke suddenly and impulsively.