“Well, there was nothing left but to humble myself and call on you—you refused to call on me.”
“I can never tell you how sorry I was to have to write that note,” he said gravely.
“I’m glad, for I refuse to take your letter as final. You said there were many and serious reasons why you could not act as my counsel. I’ve come to hear them.”
“I assure you they are serious enough, Miss Butler. I fear it will not be possible for me to state them.”
“Then I refuse to accept them,” she answered with a smile.
John gazed at her, wondering if she could know what havoc her sweet appealing smile was playing with his resolutions.
He tried to speak and couldn’t.
Stella continued, her voice low and musical with childlike tenderness:
“I know that my father was your political foe, but he had the profoundest respect for your ability and your high sense of honour. His death will doubtless remain one of the unexplained tragedies of the troubles through which the country is now passing.”
She rose and slowly approached John’s chair, her great brown eyes blinding him with their light as she gently laid a white hand on his shoulder.