But in reality Clodagh was not sleeping--was not even lying down; she was sitting in a low chair in the shadow of the drawn chintz curtains, striving to solve the question of her future conduct. Would she remain at Tuffnell and face the difficulties of her position? Would she turn coward--and run away? She passed in review the incidents of the morning, until, by persistent contemplation of them, her humiliation kindled to anger. First, anger against herself; then, anger against the world at large; lastly, anger against Gore. By the time afternoon tea was brought to her, the headache she had feigned had become a reality; and before dinner time arrived she had fallen into a state of miserable despondency. But scarcely had this black mood taken possession of her, than a new and more intolerable distress assailed her. She suddenly realised the gossip to which her abrupt retirement might give rise. What would the house party think of her disappearance? Would not Lady Frances Hope--if no one else--presume that she was suffering from wounded vanity? The thought was unendurable. No sooner did it present itself, than she sprang from her chair in a fever of apprehension, and rang hastily for Simonetta. Ten minutes before the dinner hour, she emerged from her room and passed downstairs. Faint daylight was still filling the house, but everywhere the lamps had been lighted, and the mellow double illumination gave a curious softening effect to the old raftered ceilings and panelled walls. In the hall she was met by Lady Frances Hope, who paused and looked at her scrutinisingly. "What is the matter with you?" she asked, with unusual brusqueness. "You almost look as if you had a fever. Your eyes are glittering." Clodagh laughed nervously, and put one hand to her cheek. "Nothing is the matter." Lady Frances's lip curled slightly. "You should go to bed early." "Yes. Early in the morning! I feel I could sit up all night." "Playing bridge?" Again Clodagh laughed, this time a little recklessly. "Why not?" she asked. "Will you play to-night?" "Not here. George is rather a stickler--where his relations are concerned." "And his guests?" Clodagh's question was quick and a little anxious. "Oh, his guests can amuse themselves as they like, of course." "Then I shall play to-night--if I can find any one to play with." Lady Frances looked over her shoulder, attracted by the sound of voices. "Well, here comes Rose!" she said. "Press her into your service! She won't refuse, if you give her Mr. Mansfeldt as a partner. The set she has made on that man the whole afternoon is perfectly disgraceful." She turned with a smile to Mrs. Bathurst. "Ah, Rose! How nice to see you! And you are just in time. We have been taking your name in vain." Clodagh became the centre of a noisy party until dinner was announced. And during the meal itself, the same air of inconsequent gaiety was maintained in her regard, for she sat between Serracauld and his uncle.