“What do you think?” she asked.
“Well, do you know, Dorothy, I am beginning to think my incredible luck will hold, and that you’d have written ‘Yes.’”
“I don’t know about the luck: that would have been the answer.”
He sprang up, bent over her, and she, quite unaffectedly raised her face to his.
“Oh, Dorothy,” he cried.
“Oh, Alan,” she replied, with quivering voice, “I never thought to see you again. You cannot imagine the long agony of this voyage, and not knowing what had happened.”
“It’s a blessing, Dorothy, you had learned nothing about the Trogzmondoff.”
“Ah, but I did: that’s what frightened me. We have a man on board who was flung for dead from that dreadful rock. The Baltic saved him; his mother, he calls it.”
Drummond picked her up in his arms, and carried her to the luxurious divan which ran along the side of the large room. There they sat down together, out of sight of the stairway.
“Did you get all of my letters?”