A shadow passed over the face still turned to the floor.
"Is Stafford—so—so desirable?"
"His money is, dear child, and the Carys may need money in the near future."
"I thought they were rich?"
"Their money is in the mine."
"But the mine is to be successful?"
He smiled in good-natured amusement at her persistency.
"Have you ever heard of a mine that wasn't to be successful? If you wait a moment, I will tell you the latest news. Here's a note from the Rajah."
He tore open the large square envelope, and went on reading with the same idle interest. "There's been an accident with the blasting," he observed casually. "Five men killed. Our native friend is, of course, in a fever. Has pensioned all the families. I don't know where he will land us with his extravagances. We shall want all the money we can get for repairing the damage. Philanthropy is becoming a sort of disease with him. Fortunately, I am not bitten so far." He laughed, and threw the letter to one side. "I expect I shall have to run up north to put things straight."
"Hasn't the mine brought in enough?" Lois answered innocently.