She moved to a table and poured out for Hillyard a whisky-and-soda.
"My question was thoughtless," he said. "I did not mean that you should answer it as you did."
"I preferred you to know."
"I am honoured," Hillyard replied.
Stella Croyle sat down upon a low stool in front of the fire. Hillyard sank into one of the deep-cushioned chairs. The day of tension was over, and there was no doubt about the success of "The Dark Tower." Stella Croyle sat very quietly, with the firelight playing upon her face and her delicate dress. Her vivacity had dropped from her like the pretty cloak she had thrown aside. Both became her well, but they were for use out-of-doors, and Hillyard was grateful that she had discarded them.
"You are tired, no doubt," he said, reluctantly. "I ought to go."
"No," she answered. "It is pleasant before the fire here."
"Thank you. I should like to stay for a little while. I did not know until I came into this room with how much anxiety I had been looking forward to this night."
He leaned forward with his hands clenched, and saw pass in the bright coals glimpses of the long tale of days when endeavour was fruitless and hopes were disappointed. "Success! Lord, how I wanted it!" he whispered.
Stella Croyle looked at him with a smile.