Had Max remained at Crailing, love would have gained an easy
victory, but, true to his promise, he had gone away, leaving her to
make her decision free and untrammelled by his influence.
Diana's face was beginning to show signs of the mental struggle through
which she was passing. Dark shadows lay beneath her eyes, and her
cheeks, even in so short a time, had hollowed a little. She was
irritable, too, and unlike herself, and at last Stair, whose watchful
eyes had noted all these things, though he had refrained from comment,
taxed her with keeping him outside her confidence.
"Can't I help, Di?" he asked, laying his hand on her shoulder, and
twisting her round so that she faced him.
The quick colour flew into her cheeks. For a moment she hesitated,
while Stair, releasing his hold of her, dropped into a chair and busied
himself filling and lighting his pipe.
"Well?" he queried at last, smiling whimsically. "Won't you give me an
old friend's right to ask impertinent questions?"
Impulsively she yielded.
"You needn't, Pobs. I'll tell you all about it."
When she had finished, a long silence ensued. Not that Stair was in
any doubt as to what form his advice should take--idealist that he was,
there did not seem to him to be any question in the matter. He only
hesitated as to how he could best word his counsel.
At last he spoke, very gently, his eyes lit with that inner radiance
which gave such an arresting charm of expression to his face.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199