“Have you dined, Stephen? We can get some dinner, or—or something directly.”
“My dear mother, I dined at my rooms two hours ago; but if you have a cup of tea, now; but don’t trouble—it does not matter in the slightest.”
Fresh tea was brought in, and Una, as usual, officiated. Stephen, leaning over a chair-back, talked to Jack and Mrs. Davenant, but his eyes turned continually on the graceful figure and the beautiful profile; and not one of them guessed the rage and fury which boiled and simmered under his calm and amiable exterior.
Already, as if some one had told him, he knew that Una had been out into the world. Her dress, her manner told him that; and while he smiled lovingly at his mother, he was crying out inwardly:
“Fool! fool! to trust Una to her.”
He took his cup of tea, his hand as steady as a rock, and chatted with Jack, full of the pleasantest interest.
Where had he been, and what had he been doing? and was he in those eccentric but charming rooms of his in the Temple still? and how was his friend Leonard Dagle?
He was full of questions, questions which Jack answered in his curt, brief fashion. And all the while Stephen was weighing the situation, realizing all its danger and peril, and determining on a course of action.
“Just one more cup, Miss Rolfe, if you please. Tea is my favorite beverage—I am quite an old washerwoman!”
Then he took his cup, and sat down beside her.