“Thank you so much,” said Lady Verita, casting down her eyes modestly. “We are betrothed.”
“Yes, I thought so,” said the duke; “I’ve reason to think so, for every one’s been telling me so for the last two years. But what beats me is how, with your daring, you haven’t found a way to marry him before this.”
Lady Verita hesitated.
“I have,” she said finally.
ON receipt of the magazine, Captain Adair flew home as if he had been a dynamite cartridge. For the first time in his life he was stirred enough to be really very much worth while.
“What did I tell you?” he cried, rushing in upon the guilty person without even having stopped to be brushed by his valet. “Now you have done it. We’ll have to tell now.”
Verita wasn’t in the least upset. If he had been plate-glass and she had been a hammer, she couldn’t have been more aware of where the advantage lay.
“We’ll have to tell now,” he repeated; “in fact, you have virtually told already.”
She did not deny it. But she rose and went to him. There was something about her that always had a calming effect when he was vexed, and the charm worked this time as always. He took her hands, clasped them behind his neck, and drew her to him.
“Do let us announce it,” he said in a tone that was muffled by circumstances.