"No; not all," he said, with a hidden light in his eyes that she did not see. "To some there comes a moment when they know that happiness—real true happiness—lies just beyond their grasp. And the case of rich men is more to be pitied than all others. What would you say if I told you that it was mine?"
She looked up at him with a gentle smile, not on her lips but in her eyes.
"I should say that I was very sorry," she murmured. "I should say that you deserved——" she stopped short, smitten by sudden remembrance of all she had heard of him.
He filled up the pause with a laugh: a laugh such as she had not heard upon his lips till now.
"You were right to stop," he said. "If I get all the happiness I deserve—well, no man will envy me."
"Let us go down now," said Stella, gently; "my uncle——"
He leapt down, and held up his hand.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
Stella put hers into it, but reluctantly, and tried to spring, but her dress caught and she slipped forward.