"How d'you do, Lady Diana!--and Lady Frances!" He shook hands with both; then he turned to Clodagh with rather more impressiveness. "How tremendously fit you look!" he said. Before she could answer, Deerehurst joined them, calmly taking her hand as though it were his right. "Well,--Circe!" he said below his breath. "We have followed!" Clodagh turned her eyes hastily, almost nervously, from Serracauld's attentive face to the cold features of the older man. "I--I should feel very flattered," she said lightly. Her eyes were on Deerehurst's, her hand was in his, but her mind was poignantly conscious of Gore's figure standing close behind her--of Gore's voice exchanging grettings with Lady Diana Tuffnell. A moment later, she knew that he had turned and had seen the tableau made by the old peer, Serracauld, and herself. "How d'you do, Mrs. Milbanke? It is a long time since we have met." It was not until he had directly addressed her, not until she had turned and met his glance, that Clodagh realised how deeply, how peculiarly he had influenced her. She drew her fingers sharply from Deerehurst's. "It is a long time," she said very softly. Gore took her hand. At the same moment Deerehurst laughed--his laugh of unfathomable cynical wisdom. "Mrs. Milbanke was the chrysalis in those old days, Gore!" he said lightly. "Now you see the butterfly!" At the laugh and the tone, Gore's expression became cold, and he released Clodagh's hand. "So I have been told," he said a little stiffly. "I must congratulate Mrs. Milbanke on her development." He gave a slightly constrained laugh and moved back to Lady Diana's side. Deerehurst looked after him--a malicious, humorous look. "Isn't it too lenient of the prettiest lady in London to allow a young puritan to take her to task in public?" he asked in his satirical voice. Clodagh flushed; and turning, as if to answer, let the spray of honeysuckle slip inadvertently from between her fingers. Instantly both Deerehurst and Serracauld stooped to recover it. The younger man was successful; and, straightening himself quickly, wheeled round to return it. Then his face fell; and again Deerehurst laughed. Without a word, Clodagh had left the little group and disappeared into the house. CHAPTER VIII At lunch time Clodagh sent word to Lady Diana Tuffnell that the long ride in the morning sun had given her a headache, and that she would be glad of a few hours' rest. On receipt of the message, her hostess was much concerned, and came herself to Clodagh's bedroom door to inquire whether she could be of any use to the sufferer; but there, she was met by Simonetta, who conveyed the intelligence that her mistress was asleep.