"Maude!" he exclaimed, startled out of his self-possession. Then it flashed upon him that she should not be there, in his rooms, alone; and he looked at her gravely.
"Why have you come, Maude?" he said. "Wait but one moment and I will call a cab—go home with you."
"No," she said, presently. "Did you think I should not come, Stafford? I have been here for hours." She drew nearer to him, her eyes, so cold to others, burning like sapphires as they were raised to his. "Did you think when I had heard what you had done that I should keep away? No! I—I am proud of you—can you not guess how proud?—my heart is aching with it. Ah, but it was like you, Stafford!"
As she put her hand on his shoulder and looked at him with a smile of pride, and of adoration, Stafford's eyes fell before hers.
"I could do nothing else," he said. "But I am sorry you came, Maude.
Didn't Mr. Falconer tell you?"
She laughed and threw back her head with a defiant gesture.
"Yes—as if it mattered! As if anyone—even he—could separate us! Besides, what he said was in a fit of temper, he was annoyed by your surrendering the money. And he could not speak for me—could not control me."
"Let me get a light," said Stafford.
"No matter," she said, as if she could not bear him to leave her side, even for a moment. "Stafford, dearest, you will not think of, you will forget, what he said? It was spoken in a moment of irritation. Oh, my dearest, let me look at you—it is so long since I saw you, so long, so long! How pale you are, and how weary looking!"
Her other arm went round his neck, and she would have drawn his face down to her lips, but Stafford checked her.