During the night that followed, Clodagh's excited thoughts scarcely permitted her to sleep; but with that extraordinary reserve of strength that springs from the combination of youth and health, she rose next morning as fresh and untired as though she had enjoyed unbroken rest. Coming downstairs at half-past eight, the first person she encountered was Milbanke, entering the hotel from the terrace. And spurred by her own exuberant spirits, roused to a sense of general good-will by her own rosy outlook upon life, she went quickly forward to greet him. "Good-morning, James!" she said. "I hope you haven't been tiring yourself." It struck her as an after impression that he looked slightly worn and fatigued. As he took her hand, he smiled, gratified by her concern. "Not at all, my dear!" he responded--"not at all! I have had an hour's excursion with Mr. Tomes. I assure you I had no idea that the bye-ways of Venice were so interesting." "All Venice is heavenly." Clodagh's glance wandered across the terrace to the canal, radiant in the early light. Milbanke raised his head, arrested by the fervour of her tone. "Then you--you enjoyed yourself last night?" he ventured with unusual penetration. "Oh, so much!" She turned to him with a glowing smile that betrayed a warm desire for universal confidence and sympathy. "So much! Mr. Barnard and the tall, dark-haired boy that you met last evening took me round the canals in the most beautiful gondola belonging to Lord Deerehurst. We saw all the interesting people from the hotels, and heard the music; and afterwards Mr. Barnard brought me to the Palazzo Ugochini and introduced me to Lady Frances Hope. She was charmingly kind and hospitable; and made me promise to go again to-night--and to bring you." Milbanke's face fell. "But, my dear----" he began deprecatingly. "Oh, you must come!--you must! Lady Frances Hope feels sure she has met you before. You must come!" Milbanke looked distressed. "But, my dear----" "Yes, I know you hate society. But just this once--I--I _wish_ you to come----" She made the appeal with a sudden anxious gesture, born of a very subtle, a very instinctive motive--a motive that had for its basis an obscure and quite unacknowledged sense of self-protection. Milbanke--materialist born--heard only the words, noting nothing of the undermeaning. "But, my dear," he expostulated, "the thing is--is impossible. Mr. Angelo Tomes has promised to expound his theories to me after dinner to-night----" He looked at her nervously. She was silent for a minute or two--suddenly and profoundly conscious that, in all the radiant glory of her surroundings, she stood alone. At the painful consciousness, she felt her throat swell, but with a defiant refusal to be conquered by her feelings, she gave a quick, high laugh. "Oh, very well!" she cried--"very well! As you like!" And without looking at him again, she turned and entered the coffee-room of the hotel.