As on the night years ago, when Milbanke had come to Orristown, the old room was prepared to do honour to a guest. The tablecloth was laid, places were set for two, and the great silver sconces were filled with candles that glowed so brightly that even the dark portraits on the walls were thrown into relief. But no fire blazed in the wide grate as on the former occasion, and the curtains of the three long windows were drawn back, admitting the light from the stormy evening sky.
Clodagh's first glance, as she entered the room, was for these windows, and her first words concerned them.
"Larry, draw the curtains!" she said.
To her own ears, her voice seemed to come from some distant place—to sound infinitely thin and far away; but Asshlin seemed to observe nothing. He went forward obediently and drew the six long curtains.
As the last was pulled into place Burke entered, and carefully laid two dishes upon the table. A moment later Clodagh took her seat.
"What will you eat, Larry?" she said hurriedly. "Chicken? Ham?"
Asshlin turned to her, as he in his turn took his place.
"What will you have?" he said.
"I? Oh—anything! But talk, Larry! Tell me things! Let's—let's be gay!"
Asshlin was busy cutting up the chicken. He did not hear the faintly hysterical note that underran her voice—the note of warning from a mind trying with panic-stricken haste to evade itself.