“I guess I am, sir,” Belle admitted, blushing with affected demureness.
“Waal, to tell the hull truth, Miss Braddon, I’m durned if I don’t ruther envy him,” declared Nick, with blunt heartiness.
The girl laughed, shrugging her shoulders, and appearing greatly flattered, then laid off her wrap to wait for dinner.
It was six o’clock before the meal was served, and Nick dined and wined the party liberally.
During the progress of the dinner, which was served in one of the elaborate private dining-rooms, the project of going out to Godard’s shore house was brought up, and Nick expressed his readiness to give the game a good, handsome play.
“I’ve got money enough—barrels of it,” he declared to Belle, much to her delight. “And it’s meat and drink fur me, lass, to get up agin’ a layout.”
“Then you shall be accommodated,” laughed Belle.
“And I’ll not forget, gal, ’twas you who put us wise to the fun,” added Nick pointedly.
This looked to Belle Braddon like the promise of a reward, and she slyly pressed Nick’s hand under the table.
She received the reward all right—or, at least, what was coming to her.