"Too far." "For you?
Yes! Too far," Luttrell replied.
Stella lifted a tragic face towards him; and though he winced he met her eyes.
"But you are not going! You can't go!" Luttrell handed to her the second paper.
"You never wrote this," she said very quickly.
"Yet it is what I would have written." Stella Croyle shot one swift glance at Sir Charles Hardiman.

She had recognised his handwriting.

Hardiman was in Luttrell's cabin while the rest of the party waited on the deck and the launch throbbed at the gangway.

If a woman's glance had power, he would have been stricken that instant.

But she wasted no more than a glance upon the worldly-wiseman at the head of their table.