"Yes," said Howard; "we have been plotting the cotillon and very properly arranging that the prize shall go to the wisest, the nicest, and best-looking man in the room. I need not tell you his name?" He spread his hand on his heart, and bowed with mock complacency. "And now I will go and find Sir Stephen and get a cigarette before the battle begins. Au revoir."
When he had gone, almost before the door had closed on him, Maude moved closer to Stafford, and with a mixture of shyness and eagerness, put her arm round his neck.
"How good of you to come so early!" she murmured, in the voice which only a woman in love can use, and only when she is addressing the man she loves. "You did not come to Richmond? Never mind! Stafford, you know that I do not wish to hamper or bind you, do you not?—Are you well?" she broke off, scanning his face earnestly, anxiously. "Quite well," he responded. "Why do you ask, Maude?"
"I thought you looked tired, pale, that you have looked so for some weeks," she said, her eyes seeking his.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I am quite well. The hot weather makes one feel rather limp, I suppose. At any rate, there is nothing else the matter with me but a fit of laziness."
"As if you were ever lazy!" she said, with a smile.
"There is a large party to-night?" he said, presently.
She nodded.
"Yes: immense. The biggest thing we—I mean Sir Stephen—has done." Her eyes fell for a moment. "You will dance with me to-night—twice, Stafford?"