We may be beaten by Mr.
Falconer; but don't say we're utterly crushed. That doesn't sound like
you, sir; and I don't understand why you should chuck up the sponge so
quickly."
Sir Stephen raised his head and looked at Stafford with a curious
expression of mingled surprise and apprehension.
"What is it you are saying, Stafford?" he asked. "What is it you mean?
I don't understand. We're not beaten; Ralph Falconer has offered to
make the concession over to me; and no one need know that I have
failed, that he had stolen the march on me. You heard what he said:
that you were in love with his daughter Maude, and that of course he
could not injure his future son-in-law. Stafford!" He sprang to his
feet and began to pace up and down the room. "I know that this has
touched your pride--I can give a pretty good guess as to how proud you
are--but, for God's sake! don't let your pride stand in the way of this
arrangement."
"But--" Stafford began; for he felt that he could not longer keep back
the truth, that his father must be told not only that there was nothing
between Maude and himself, but that he loved Ida Heron.
Pages:
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351