"He'll answer to it in a day or two, you'll see.

I hope you haven't quite spoilt your dress, Miss Falconer, and won't regret your row!" She looked at her dress, but there was a sudden significance in her slow, lingering response.
"I--don't--know!" As she went up the stairs she looked over the rail and saw Stafford's tall figure striding down the hall.

He was softly pulling the terrier's ears and talking to it in the language dogs understand and love; and when she sank into a chair in her room, his face with its manly tenderness was still before her, his deep musical voice, with its note of protection and succour, still rang in her ears.
She sat quite motionless for a minute or two, then she rose and went to the glass and looked at herself; a long, intent look.
"Yes, I am beautiful," she murmured, not with the self-satisfaction of vanity, but with a calculating note in her voice.

"Am I--am I beautiful enough ?" Then she swung away from the glass with the motion which reminded Howard of a tigress, and, setting her teeth hard, laughed with self-scorn; but with something, also, of fear in the laugh.
"I am a fool!" she muttered.

"It can't be true.