It was a letter from Deerehurst, and she tore it open hastily, skimming the contents with an eager glance. "DEAR LITTLE LADY," it began, "Yesterday the fates who watch over my affairs were unkind. The afternoon was frankly a failure. But I shall claim recompense; I shall look in upon you in your box at the Apollo at nine to-night. A vexatious business matter calls me out of town to-day, or I should strive to see you earlier. But at nine make me welcome. "Always devotedly, "DEEREHURST." She finished reading the note, then laid it down and hurriedly picked up another letter. How annoying it was! How malicious of Chance! The second letter proved to be from Lady Frances Hope; it was from Brittany, and reproached her extravagantly for not having written since they parted at Tuffnell. Imploring for news of her movements, it informed her that the writer, with Mrs. Bathurst and Valentine Serracauld, was on her way back to London. She followed the lines mechanically, but her mind was elsewhere. At last she threw the letter down. "Nance!" she said suddenly. "Darling?" "Nance, I'm in a horrid difficulty." Nance's high, arched eyebrows drew together in a frown of concern. "Nothing bad?" she said. "Nothing about Walter?" "No. Yes--yes it is. You know Walter dislikes Lord Deerehurst. Well, he was vexed at finding him here yesterday; and after he had gone I--I promised not to see him any more--I promised to break off my friendship with him." Nance nodded, tactfully refraining from any joy in the proving of her theories. "Yes?" she prompted softly. "And now Lord Deerehurst writes that he will be at the Apollo to-night, and is coming round to our box at nine." Nance pursed up her lips. "Oh!" she said. "And you'll have to put him off?" "That's the annoying thing. I can't. At least, not easily." "Why?" "Because he's going into the country to-day, and won't be back till evening." "Send him a note. He must go home to dress before going to the theatre." "He might dress and dine at his club." "Write to his club as well." Clodagh's perplexity showed itself in annoyance. "How absurd you are, Nance! Fancy writing a man two letters asking him not to see you, and giving no explanation! It would simply bring him round here at ten to-morrow morning." She poured herself out a cup of tea and drank it hastily. "Life is a hateful tangle!" she said. "No it isn't, darling, if you only had a little patience." Clodagh made a very impatient gesture. "You don't understand!" "I understand one thing--that you care for Walter." Clodagh looked up, her mutable face lit by a sudden change of expression--a sudden look of almost passionate seriousness.