“Yes—the suspense is terrible!—what might I be, your Majesty?”
“Well, we should call you—”
He hesitated, and she wondered whether he would be bold enough to meet the issue offered by this turn of their nonsense.
“I seem to give your Majesty difficulty; the silence isn’t flattering,” she said mockingly; but she was conscious of a certain excitement as she walked the deck beside him.
“Oh, pardon me! The difficulty is only as to title—you would, of course, occupy the dais; but whether you should be queen or empress—that’s the rub! If America is to be an empire, then of course you would be an empress. So there you are answered.”
They passed laughingly on to the other phases of the matter in the whimsical vein that was natural in her, and to which he responded. They watched the lights of an east-bound steamer that was passing near. The exchange of rocket signals—that pretty and graceful parley between ships that pass in the night—interested them for a moment. Then the deck lights went out so suddenly it seemed that a dark curtain had descended and shut them in with the sea.
“Accident to the dynamo—we shall have the lights on in a moment!” shouted the deck officer, who stood near, talking to a passenger.
“Shall we go in?” asked Armitage.
“Yes, it is getting cold,” replied Shirley.
For a moment they were quite alone on the dark deck, though they heard voices near at hand.