For one moment longer her uncertain glance wandered from the slip of paper to the glowing rose bushes; from the roses to the cold malignant face of the satyr that confronted her across the strip of grass. "You--you are very kind. In--in January, then." Deerehurst bowed again. And in complete silence the cheque passed from his hand to hers. CHAPTER XI Action--decisive action--always brings relief. An hour after it had come into her possession, Clodagh had dispatched Deerehurst's cheque to her bankers in London; and when, at seven o'clock, she entered Nance's room with the intention of dressing for the night's festivities, she was carrying a cheque from her own book. As she came into the room, Nance was kneeling before her trunk; but at the sound of the closing door she looked round, and sprang to her feet with a cry of delight. "Clo!" she cried, running forward--"Clo, how lovely of you to come! Shall we dress together, like long ago?" Then her eyes fell to the folded slip of paper in Clodagh's hand. "What is that?" she asked curiously. Clodagh looked down at the cheque. "I have come to do my duty!" she said, with a faint laugh. "Here is your thousand pounds, darling. May it be enough to buy everything in life worth having!" Her voice faltered on the last words; but the touch of emotion was lost in a sudden embrace from Nance. "Oh, you darling!--you love!" she cried. "A thousand pounds! I feel a queen!" She drew back a little, flushing with excitement and pleasure; and opened the cheque almost reverently. "And can I really, really get a thousand pounds by signing my name on the back of this? I can't believe it, you know--I simply _can't_." She raised her shining eyes to Clodagh's. Clodagh's face softened. "Oh, you child!" she said--"you child! It makes me remember our weekly pennies, just to listen to you. How poor--and how very happy--we were long ago! Do you remember?" Nance gave a little cry of recollection. "Remember, Clo! _Could_ I forget?" Then followed another impulsive embrace, a kiss, and a whole torrent of reminiscence. And a quarter of an hour had slipped away before the entrance of Simonetta with Clodagh's dress recalled them to the knowledge of present things. Five minutes before the dinner hour had struck, the sisters entered the hall. At the foot of the stairs Nance was detained by George Tuffnell; while Clodagh, left alone for the moment, was at once claimed by Serracauld. He came forward from one of the windows, moving with his usual graceful indolence, and, pausing beside her, looked intently into her face. "You look radiant to-night," he said. She laughed. "Can one ever look radiant in black?" Serracauld's eyes passed slowly from her face to her slim white neck. "Yes," he said, in his cool, deliberate voice. She gave another laugh, slightly shorter and more conscious than the last. But before she could speak again, he moved a trifle nearer, and laid his fingers lightly on her fan.