"I suppose that gentleman, the man in the carriage, was a friend of Sir
Stephen's, as he asked the way to your house?"
"I don't know," replied Stafford. "I don't know any of my father's
friends. I knew very little of him until last night."
She looked at him with frank, girlish interest.
"Did you find the new house very beautiful?" she asked.
Stafford nodded.
"Yes," he said, absently. "It is a kind of--of palace. It's beautiful
enough--perhaps a little too--too rich," he admitted.
She smiled.
"But then, you are rich. And is it true that a number of visitors are
coming down? I heard it from Jessie."
"Who is Jessie?" he asked, for he was more interested in the smallest
detail of this strange, bewilderingly lovely girl's life than his
father's affairs.
"Jessie is my maid. I call her mine, because she is very much attached
to me; but she is really our house-maid, parlour-maid. We have very few
servants: I suppose you have a great many up at the new house?"
He nodded.
"Oh, yes," he said, half apologetically. "Too many by far. I wish you
could, see it," he added.
She laughed softly.
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