“What a question!” murmured Juanita, her eyes falling under his ardent gaze. “Why, I—I—that is—my father’s wish is law, you know. I must coincide with what he says.”
“No, that is not enough,” persisted Clif.
“Well, if you insist,” laughed the girl, “I’ll say——”
“Haw! here you are, my dear Miss Windom. Ha! ha! you quite escaped us. Deuced cruel of you, don’t ye know.”
The Englishman sauntered up, twirling his monocle in an affected manner. Turning to Clif, he added:
“What’s the row, dear boy? Are you going to bombard the blooming town?”
“No,” shortly replied Faraday. “The king is coming on board.”
The effect of this commonplace announcement upon the Englishman was remarkable.
He started as if struck; his face became ashen in color, and he appeared to breathe with difficulty.