He smiled and leant back as if he had considered her strange, audacious proposal, and felt confident.
"On my honour," he said, with a laugh. "You shall have fair play!" She laughed softly. "You have not chosen my stake," she said meaningly.
"Ah, no. Pardon! Let me see." He took her hand and examined the rings.
"This—I think it's the most valuable."
"It does not matter," she said. "You will not win it. May I look at yours?"
He extended his hand with an amused laugh; but without a smile, she said:
"Yes, it is a quaint ring; I like quaint things. I shall wear it on my little finger."
She dropped his hand quickly, for at that moment Stafford rode round the bend of the drive. His face was grave and almost stern in its preoccupation, but he caught sight of them, and raised his hat, then turned his horse and rode up to the terrace.
"Good-morning, Stafford," exclaimed Howard. "Where have you been?
Hallo! Anything happened? You're coated all over with mud: had a fall?"
He nodded carelessly as he turned to the beautiful girl, lying back now and looking up at his handsome face with an air of languid indifference.
"What a lovely day, Miss Falconer! Where are all the others? Are you not going for a drive, on the lake, somewhere?"