"Clodagh!" He bent over her, laying his hands gently on her shoulders. "Clodagh, we talked to-day of the night at Tuffnell--of what you said that night." "Yes." Clodagh's throat felt dry. "And it was all true--perfectly true?" "Yes. Oh, Walter, yes!" Gore stood upright, still keeping his hands upon her shoulders. "Then I am going to ask a great favour of you. I am going to ask you to break your friendship--to break your acquaintance--with Deerehurst. I want you never to have him in your house after to-day. Dearest, believe me, I know what I am saying!" As Clodagh remained silent, he bent over her again. "It isn't jealousy, Clodagh. It isn't pique. It is just that I cannot bear to see the man in your presence, knowing what I know of him." "What do you know of him?" Clodagh asked faintly. "Nothing that I care to tell you! Be satisfied that I know what I ask and that I do ask. Give him up! Cease to know him! Cease to have him here!" In the intensity of his feelings, his fingers pressed her shoulders. "Clodagh, am I asking too much?" Quite suddenly, almost hysterically, Clodagh rose; and, turning to him, caught his hand. "No, Walter!" she cried--"no! no! Nothing you could ask would be too great to grant. I will do what you wish. I will give him up--_utterly_--entirely--from to-day!" CHAPTER XV The next morning Clodagh rose imbued with new decision. During Gore's absence, things had worn a vague, even an impersonal aspect; for, like all her countrywomen, she possessed a fatally pleasant capacity for shelving the disagreeable. While Gore was absent, it had seemed so easy to meet Deerehurst on the footing he elected to maintain--the footing of calm, reassuring friendship. But now, with Gore's return, the aspect of affairs had altered. She was forced to look circumstances in the face--forced to consider her position. She might be a shelver of difficulties; but, before all things, she was a woman in love; and with the instinct that such a condition of mind engenders she had interpreted the look in Gore's eyes when the name of Deerehurst had been mentioned between them--and had recognised that it was not to be ignored. As she dressed that morning, she mentally surveyed the courses of action that lay open to her; and with each moment of reflection, it became plainer to her understanding that only one was worthy of consideration. However difficult the task, she must make known her position to Deerehurst, and trust to his generosity to find means of helping her. Her mind was full of this new and somewhat optimistic scheme when she came into the dining-room, where Nance was already reading her morning letters. With a slightly absorbed manner she kissed her sister and, passing round the breakfast-table, picked up her own correspondence. In a perfunctory way she turned the envelopes over until one arrested her attention, as being intimately connected with her thoughts.