She spoke with crisp authority; her face was all keen intelligence. And I chuckled at the contrast with the way in which she had come aboard with Hugh.
"We'll help," Hugh told her now. "What do we do?"
She stationed us, Hugh bearing down on his well shoulder, Vernon King and I grasping each a leg. She took a deep breath, caught arm and shoulder in her strong young fingers, tugged, twisted with a wrench—a moan from Nikka, lying half-conscious—and there was an audible snap. Betty stepped back, flushed and trembling.
"There," she said, "it's in place, but I wouldn't do it again to-night for anything."
"Good girl," I said.
"That's praise from Sir Hubert," she acknowledged shyly. "Aren't you ever going to congratulate me, Jack? Oh, Lordy, though, I've completely forgotten to tell Dad."
"But that's quite usual, my dear," said my uncle whimsically.
"Don't be a cynic like Jack, old dear," she rebuked him with a kiss. "You know I really have to tell you when I'm engaged. It happened very suddenly, and Jack blew me up for letting it interfere with business."
"I'm inclined to agree with him," said King. "I suppose the young man concerned is Hugh."
Betty regarded him admiringly.