"My head still aches," she said. "I think you may go. I should like to be alone."
From previous knowledge of her moods, the woman made no protestations, but folded up her work and went quietly towards the door.
As she gained it, Clodagh turned.
"Simonetta!"
"Yes, signora?"
"Tell the servants they are to say nothing to any one of my having gone out to-night. You understand."
"I understand, signora."
"That is all—good-night!"
"Good-night, signora!"
It would be futile to relate the thoughts that passed through Clodagh's mind in the hour that followed Simonetta's departure; but when, at half-past eleven, Nance returned from the theatre, and, hurrying to the bedroom, opened the door swiftly and anxiously, she was standing by one of the open windows, her hat and veil still on, her gaze fixed resolutely on the shadowy trees of the park.