Miss Falconer's nature was a matter of profound indifference to him.

There was only one woman on whom he could bestow a thought, and he was thinking of her now, wondering when he should see her, whether he might dare to tell her of his love again, to ask her for her answer.
Once or twice his father looked across at him, and nodded and smiled as if he loved to see him, and wanted to speak to him; and Stafford smiled and nodded back, as if he understood.
When the men rose to go to the drawing-room, Sir Stephen caught him up at the door, and laid a hand upon his arm.
"Happy, dear boy ?" he asked in a low voice, full of affection.

"I've seen scarcely anything of you.

No, no, I'm not complaining! It was understood that you were to have a free hand--but--but I've missed you! Never mind; this crowd will have gone presently, and then--ah, then we'll have a jolly time to ourselves! Things are going well," he added, with a significant smile, as he glanced at Wirsch and Griffenberg, who, well-fed and comfortable, were in front of them.
"I'm glad, sir," said Stafford.
Sir Stephen smiled, but checked a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders.
"Yes, my little schemes are flourishing; but"-- he looked at the financiers again--"they are rather a hard team to drive!" As Stafford entered the drawing-room, he heard Lady Clansford enquiring for Miss Falconer.
"We want her to sing, Mr.Orme, and I cannot find her." "I think she is on the terrace," said Bertie, who always seemed to know where everybody was.
Stafford went out by one of the windows, and saw Maude Falconer pacing up and down at the end of the terrace.

She was superbly dressed, and as he looked at her, he involuntarily admired the grace of her movements.
Mr.Falconer was walking with bent head and hands behind his back; but now and again he looked at her sideways with his sharp eyes.