She lay almost passive in his embrace, her lips parted, her eyes fixed on his.
He gave another short laugh, half indulgent, half triumphant.
"What a little saint! Come! Show me why you came to me to-night! Be human! Be what you know you are!"
Clodagh made no answer; but he felt her sway a little in his arms.
"What is it?" he asked sharply. Selfish annoyance was written on his face, though he asked the question solicitously.
"I feel faint," she said—"a little faint."
"Faint? Nonsense! It will pass. Rest for a moment." Without ceremony, he half lifted her across the room to a couch that stood between the fireplace and the door.
"Poor little girl! Don't be frightened! It will pass in a minute. Is there anything you would like?"
Clodagh opened her eyes.
"A little water, I think," she said in a tremulous voice.