"And which are you going to do?" she asked, in a low voice, her eyes veiled, her lips drawn straight.
Falconer laughed grimly. "I don't know. It all depends. Which would you do?" he asked, half sarcastically.
She was silent for a moment, then she said: "You knew Sir Stephen some time ago—years ago, father?"
Falconer nodded. "I did," he said, shortly.
"And you were friends, and you quarrelled?"
He looked at her with an air of surprise.
"I saw you both when you stood opposite each other after the carriage accident," she said, coolly. "I am not blind, and I am not particularly stupid. It didn't strike me at the time that there had been anything wrong between you, but I have since seen you look at Sir Stephen, and—you have an expressive face sometimes, oh, my father!"
He grinned grimly.
"You appear to keep your eyes open, Maude. Yes; there was a row between us, and there was a grudge—"
—"Which you mean to pay off?" she said, as impassively as if they were speaking of the merest trivialities.