Smithson to save her.
All this, occupied some minutes, and gave Lesbia and the Cuban just
time for a few words that had to be said somehow.
'Good-night,' said Montesma, as they clasped hands; 'good-night;' and
then in a lower voice he said, 'Well, have you decided at last? Shall it
be?'
She looked at him for a moment or so, pale in the starlight, and then
murmured an almost inaudible syllable.
'Yes.'
He bent quickly and pressed his lips upon her gloved hand, and when Mr.
Smithson looked round they two were standing apart, Montesma in a
listless attitude, as if tired of waiting for his host.
It was Smithson who handed Lesbia into the boat and arranged her wraps,
and hung over her tenderly as he performed those small offices.
'Now really,' he asked, just before the boat put off, 'when are we to be
with you to-morrow?'
'Lady Kirkbank says not till afternoon tea, but I think you may come a
few hours earlier. I am not at all sleepy.'
'You look as if you needed sleep badly,' answered Smithson. 'I'm afraid
you are not half careful enough of yourself.
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