With characteristic impulsiveness he suddenly resolved to put an end to it. To seek out Inza and apologize.
As he made the resolution a low, musical laugh came from the other side of a bank of flowers.
Then a deep voice followed. It was Inza and Bart.
“Miss Random,” he said, hurriedly, “will you kindly pardon me if I escort you back to the room? I—I—have an engagement and——”
Effie started and glanced at him with mingled surprise and pique. She, too, had heard the laugh. Her eyes flashed, and her lips compressed ominously.
“Certainly, if you wish it, Mr. Merriwell,” she replied, coldly. “But may I ask if your extremely sudden engagement is connected with Inza?”
The impertinence of the question passed unheeded by Frank. His mind was engrossed by his new resolution.
“I confess it is,” he replied, frankly. “Pray excuse me.”
With that he was gone. Effie watched him disappear with eyes filled with tears of rage and humiliation. Gripping the railing of the balcony until her hands ached, she muttered:
“You will regret this, Frank Merriwell. You will regret this insult to me. I will find means to make you suffer for it.”