Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 27, 2025
The cry of anguish came from Grace, and she threw herself sobbing on Veath's breast. Hugh turned like a flash. Contrition and the certainty of his power to dispel her grief showed plainly in his face. "Don't cry, Grace dear," he begged, going over to them. "I was only fooling, dear. I'm not a bit unhappy." Grace looked up wonderingly at him through her tears.
"I'm afraid it will be too late," she cried, all a-flutter. "Too late? Why?" "I mean," she went on confusedly, "he might think we had waited too long." She was thinking of Veath's wistful eyes. "Hello! Here you are," cried a strong voice, and Veath loomed up through the shadows. Hugh released her hand and dropped back in the chair from which he had half risen to kiss her.
"They'll be here in half an hour; but I haven't told them it was you they are going to see. She loves Veath loves him more than she ever cared for me. I don't blame her, do you? Veath's a man worthy of any woman's love and confidence. Tennys, do you know what I've been thinking ever since I left them fifteen minutes ago? I've been calling myself a cad a downright cad." "And why, may I ask?"
Hugh turned red in the face and stooped over to flick an imaginary particle of dust from his trousers' leg. There was but one object in their going and he had not dreamed of being asked what it was. He could not be employed forever in brushing away that speck, and yet he could not, to save his life, construct an answer to Veath's question.
Secretly he feared that the Queen might rush upon a reef at night. Dinner on the second violent evening was a sombre affair. Lady Huntingford, pale, sweet and wan, made her appearance with Grace, occupying Veath's seat, that gentleman moving to the next chair, its original occupant being confined to his berth.
She was forced at one time to write Med and a dash, declaring, in chagrin, that she would add the remainder of the word when she could get to a place where a dictionary might tell her whether it was spelled Mediterranean or Mediteranian. Suddenly, Hugh pressed Veath's arm a little closer. "Look over there near the rail. There's the prettiest girl I've ever seen!" "Where?"
Without a word Ridgeway bolted to Veath's room and knocked at the door. There was no response. The steward, quite a distance down the passageway, heard the American gentleman swear distinctly and impressively. He ate his luncheon alone, disconsolate, furious, miserable. Afterward he sought recreation and finally went to his room, where he tried to read. Even that was impossible.
And, strange to say, although they had been wildly happy in this little love chase, they felt that they had mistreated a very good fellow and were saying as much to each other when they almost bumped into him. Womanly perception told Grace that Veath's regard for her was beginning to assume a form quite beyond that of ordinary friendship. She intuitively felt that he was beginning to love her.
Hugh began to have the unreasonable fear that she cared more for Veath's society than she did for his. He was in ugly humor at lunch time and sent a rather peremptory message to Grace's room, telling her that he was hungry and asking her to get ready at once. The steward brought back word that she was not in her room. She had been out since ten o'clock.
Lord Huntingford, austere and imperturbable, entered some time before his wife and purposely ignored her when she came in. As the party arose from the table, a heavy lurch of the boat threw Grace headlong into Veath's arms. By a superhuman effort he managed to keep his feet. He smiled down at her; but there was something so insistent in the smile that it troubled her.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking