He pulled again, with a spasmodic jerk, on the fur coat.
"Beautiful!" he cried. "You? You are the most beautiful thing God ever made!"
"Reginald!" she protested, in a whisper, gazing down at his hand so as to hide her face from him.
He was full of courage now. Even love could not frighten him. Daring blazed in him.
"Kiss me—quick!" he whispered. "I hear Banks on the stairs! Quick!" He pulled at the coat, with fearless determination. For a fraction of a second she resisted; and then, sudden, impetuous, whole-hearted, she stepped forward, sank to her knees beside the bed, pressed her young breast to his unwounded shoulder, and her lips to his. He felt the moisture of her tears. The ascending Banks was forgotten.
"Hem! Ah—I beg your pardon!" exclaimed the New Yorker.
The girl was on her feet, and two yards away from the bed in a flash. Her cheeks and brow were crimson; but she faced the big sportsman with something of defiance in her attitude. Reginald Rayton neither moved nor spoke. He lay with his eyes closed, breathing quickly. Mr. Banks looked the most guilty of the three. He shuffled his feet. His glance fell before the glory and daring of the girl's face. He saw that it was beautiful, now absolutely beautiful, and he knew love to be the beautifier. He was abashed. For a few seconds he was utterly bereft of his usual aplomb. Had he been the inspiration of that light on her face and in her eyes, it is probable that he would have known exactly what to do. At last he advanced, bowed ponderously, and lifted one of her hands to his lips. Then he stepped over to the bed.
"Reginald, you have all the luck," he said. "I congratulate you from the bottom of my heart. I'd take on the risks myself for—well, for one-tenth part of the reward."
Nell came back to earth—to the lower levels where lives are lived out, and fear stalks through sun and shadow.
"The risks! I had forgotten them," she whispered.