At the foot of the grand stairway Stewart's self-possession left him.
Lana Corson was standing half-way up the stairs. Her furs were thrown back, revealing her festival attire. Her beauty was heightened by the flush on her cheeks and by the vivid animation in her luminous eyes.
He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting hers, and then he hastened to her.
"How did it happen—that you're here, Lana?"
"I'm here—let that be an answer for now. But this, Stewart—this what I have been seeing and hearing! Does it mean what it seems to mean?"
"I'll have to admit that I don't know exactly how it does show up from the side-lines. Suppose you say!"
"I heard you talk to General Totten. I heard you talk to that mob. I saw what you did. But I heard you give all the credit to my father." She searched Stewart's face with more earnest stare. "You have saved the state from disgracing itself, haven't you? Isn't that what you have done—you yourself?"
"Oh, nonsense! Tell me! How did you get in and who came with you?"
"I'm here alone, Stewart, and it's of no importance how I got in. The question I have asked you is the important one just now."
Her insistence was disconcerting; he had not recovered from the astonishment of the sudden meeting; he felt that he ought to lie to that daughter, in the interests of her family pride, but he was conscious of his inability to lie glibly just then.