It was the voice of my old comrade, Andrew Spinnaker, who had played with me in our childhood's days, and whom I had not seen now for eight years.
"Andrew!" I cried, as I turned round. "What are you doing here?"
"I am just off to discover the South Pole," he said. "My shipmates are waiting for me to command the expedition."
I noticed then for the first time that he was dressed in a seal-skin cap and a pair of sleeping-bags.
"Nell," he went on, "before I go, tell me you love me."
My heart fluttered like a captured bird; my knees trembled like a drunken spider's; my throat was stifled like a stifled throat. A huge wave of something or other surged over me and told me that the great mystery of the world had happened to me.
I was in love.
I was in love with Andrew Spinnaker.
"Andrew," I cried, falling on his startled chin, "I love you." All the back of my neck thrilled with joy.
But my joy was shortlived. No sooner had I become aware that I loved Andrew Spinnaker than my conscience told me I had no right to do so. I was going to marry Lord Wurzel, and to love another than my husband was sin. I shook Andrew off my lips.