"It's the reward of a generous action," she said, and again, the mocking note was absent from her voice.
Stafford laughed.
"That's putting it rather high," he said.
They sat on in silence: Stafford thinking of Ida, Maude looking down at the sleeping dog, and thinking that only a few minutes ago it had been lying in the bosom of the man who sat beside her: the man whom she had backed herself to fool; but for whom a strange sensation of admiration—and was it a subtle fear?—was stirring within her.
"By George! we must be going!" he said, suddenly.
When they got to the boat he proposed to roll the terrier in his coat, but Maude shook her head.
"I'll nurse it going home," she said.
"You will? That's very good of you!" he said, quite gratefully.
"He's a lucky little beggar!" he remarked, after awhile, as he looked at the black little morsel curled up on the pretty dress. "Supposing he isn't claimed, would you care to have him, Miss Falconer?"
She looked down at the dog.