After she had left, there was a silence, in which neither Clodagh nor Gore made any attempt to speak.
Filled with a nervous sense of something inevitably impending, Clodagh sat very still. She dreaded to look at Gore, lest she might precipitate what he was going to say; yet, to her strained mind, suspense appeared intolerable. She clasped her hands suddenly, with a little catching of the breath.
At the faint, yet significant sound, he turned from the window; and coming quietly across the room, paused behind her chair.
"Clodagh!" He bent over her, laying his hands gently on her shoulders. "Clodagh, we talked to-day of the night at Tuffnell—of what you said that night."
"Yes."
Clodagh's throat felt dry.
"And it was all true—perfectly true?"
"Yes. Oh, Walter, yes!"
Gore stood upright, still keeping his hands upon her shoulders.
"Then I am going to ask a great favour of you. I am going to ask you to break your friendship—to break your acquaintance—with Deerehurst. I want you never to have him in your house after to-day. Dearest, believe me, I know what I am saying!"