“I have another piece of news for you, father,” said Ned, after a time.
“Yes?”
“I am sure,” he explained, with an effort at playfulness, “that Mr. Benedict has not announced it in his ‘extra.’ Mrs. Brevoort has promised to be my wife.”
Prince Carlo of Rexania stood for an instant, white and trembling, upon the steps that led from Gerald Strong’s doorway. Upon his lips he still felt the kiss of a loving and sorrow-stricken girl. The bell in a distant church-steeple was striking midnight.
“Come,” he said, gently, placing a hand upon Ned Strong’s arm,—“come, comrade, I need a friend to-night; for the world seems very sad.”
THE END.