It was an eloquent look, one that could not be mistaken by the least
vain of men, and it went straight through Stafford's heart; for it
forced him to realise that which he had not even yet quite
realised--that he had tacitly pledged himself to her. Under other
circumstances, the thought might have set his heart beating and sent
the blood coursing hotly through his veins; but with his heart aching
with love for Ida, and despair at the loss of her, Maude Falconer's
love-glance only chilled him and made him shudder with apprehension of
the future, with the thought of the cost of the sacrifice which he had
taken upon himself. The music sounded like a funeral march in his ears,
the glitter, the heat, the movement, seemed unendurable; and he
threaded his way round the room to an ante-room which had been fitted
up as a buffet.

"Give me some wine, please," he said to the butler, trying to speak in
his ordinary tone; but he knew that his voice was harsh and strained,
knew that the butler noticed it, though the well-trained servant did
not move an eyelid, but opened a bottle of champagne with solemn
alacrity and poured out a glass. Stafford signed to him to place the
bottle near and drank a couple of glasses.

It pulled him together a bit, and he was going back to the ball-room
when several men entered. They were Griffenberg, Baron Wirsch, the
Beltons and the other financiers; they were all talking together and
laughing, and their faces were flushed with triumph. Close behind them,
but grave and taciturn as usual, came Mr. Falconer.