Leaving the ballroom, they passed together down a long corridor that ended in a short flight of stairs, leading to the card-room. At the foot of these stairs he paused, struck by a new idea. "Suppose we look into the card-room?" he said. "I believe it will be deserted at this early hour." Clodagh assented. "If you like," she said. "It _would_ be rather nice to find a quiet spot." And, leading the way with careless unconcern, she began to mount the stairs. The door of the card-room was open. The baize-covered tables were arranged for play; but only one small, green-shaded lamp had been lighted; and the window was uncurtained and open to the still summer night. She paused on the threshold, and Serracauld stepped quickly to her side. "It might almost have been arranged for us," he said. "Won't you go in?" She waited for a moment longer; then she walked slowly forward and halted beside one of the tables. Very quietly her companion closed the door, and, crossing the room softly, paused close behind her. "Do you know that you dance--gloriously?" he said again. "But I always knew you would. A waltz with you is one of the things I promised myself a long time ago." As he spoke, she was conscious that his shoulder almost brushed hers. With a faintly uneasy movement she raised her head. "What do you mean?" she asked, turning and meeting his eyes. In the dim light of the room there was something curious, new, and alarming in the glance she encountered. He was standing exceedingly near; his face looked very pale; the pupils of his eyes were dilated, giving them a peculiar, unfamiliar look. Embarrassed, and yet doubtful that her embarrassment was justified, she turned away, and, nervously taking a pack of cards from the table, began to pass them through her fingers. "I don't know what you mean," she said again. "I don't understand." Quite suddenly Serracauld laughed; and, passing his arms over hers, caught her hands, so that the cards fluttered to the table. "Nonsense!" he said in a sharp, whispering voice--"nonsense! The prettiest woman of the season not understand!" He laughed again, and with a swift movement freed her hands; and, clasping her suddenly and closely, forced her head backwards and bent his face to hers. The action was not so much a kiss, as a vehement, almost painful pressure of his lips upon her mouth--something that stung her to resentment rather than to fear. For one instant she remained passive; the next, she had freed herself with the muscular activity that had always belonged to her slight, supple frame. As she drew away from him, she was trembling and her face was white; but there was a look he had never imagined in her eyes and on her lips. For one moment it seemed that she meant to speak; and then her lips closed. She turned away from him and walked out of the room without a word. CHAPTER XII Hardly conscious of her movements, Clodagh left the card-room and passed down the corridor.