He caught her hand and she left it in his.
“Yes, very happy.”
Bellairs bent over her and kissed her—as he lifted himself up a white hand appeared on the rail of the companion that led from the lower to the upper deck of the Hatasoo. Clarice wearily dragged herself up. She was wrapped in a shawl and looked very ill. Betty ran to help her.
“I thought I must get a little air,” she said feebly. “How d'you do, Mr Bellairs?”
She sank down in a chair.
Bellairs felt like a man between two fires.
Two days later Lord Braydon gave his consent to his daughter's engagement with Bellairs, and Lady Betty ran to tell Clarice. She had not previously said a word to her friend of what had passed between her and Bellairs. He had begged her to keep silence until he had spoken to Lord Braydon, and she had promised and had kept her promise. But now she rushed into the saloon where Clarice was playing Chopin, and, throwing her arms round her friend, told her the great news. The body of Clarice became rigid in her arms.
“And the king has consented,” Betty cried.
The king was her father.