Drake caught him by the arm.
"Take care!" he said hoarsely. "You bid me hope! Dare I do so?"
Falconer looked at him fixedly.
"Go to her and see. Wait, my lord. I love her as dearly—more dearly, perhaps, God knows!—than you do. She would be mine at a word."
Drake stood motionless, his face white and set.
"But that word will never be spoken by me. So I prove my love. Prove yours, my lord, and go to her!"
Drake tried to speak, but could not. His hand closed over Falconer's for a moment, then he hurried from the room and went down the stairs.
Dick was lounging in the porch with a cigarette, and he stared at Drake's hurried appearance, at his white, set face.
"Where is Nell? Where is your sister?" Drake demanded.
"Heaven only knows! She went out when you came in. She's in the wood, I should think."