"A broken heart! What do you mean?" said Stella, her face flushed, her eyes challenging his with a touch of indignation.
He smiled.
"I meant that Lord Leycester is as skilled in breaking hearts as limbs. But I forgot I must not say anything against the heir to Wyndward in your hearing. Pray forgive me. Good-night."
And, with a bow and a keen look from his small eyes, he moved away.
Stella stood looking after him for a moment, and a shiver ran through her as if from a cold wind.
Breaking hearts! What did he mean?
An exclamation from her uncle caused her to turn suddenly.
He was standing in the light of the window, with the open telegram in his hand, his face pale and anxious.
"Great Heaven!" he muttered, "what am I to do?"