“Fond of her! I have never, to my knowledge, laid eyes on her.”
“Oh!” And the tone was somewhat mollified. “Then why did you look so worried during dinner?”
“Simply because I know Sir Charles.”
“What a dear, sympathetic little boy you are! When I die, Bertie, I suppose you will drop down stiff from grief at once.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. We are missing all this delightful music.”
And they whirled away down the snowy deck, forgetful of all things save one, that they were in love.
Now, what a pity it was that Bruce was not on board the White Heather that night. Many complications, and not a little misery, would have been avoided thereby.