Had Max remained at Crailing, love would have gained an easy victory, but, true to his promise, he had gone away, leaving her to make her decision free and untrammelled by his influence.
Diana's face was beginning to show signs of the mental struggle through which she was passing.

Dark shadows lay beneath her eyes, and her cheeks, even in so short a time, had hollowed a little.

She was irritable, too, and unlike herself, and at last Stair, whose watchful eyes had noted all these things, though he had refrained from comment, taxed her with keeping him outside her confidence.
"Can't I help, Di ?" he asked, laying his hand on her shoulder, and twisting her round so that she faced him.
The quick colour flew into her cheeks.

For a moment she hesitated, while Stair, releasing his hold of her, dropped into a chair and busied himself filling and lighting his pipe.
"Well ?" he queried at last, smiling whimsically.

"Won't you give me an old friend's right to ask impertinent questions ?" Impulsively she yielded.
"You needn't, Pobs.