"
A faint hope stirred in Cara's heart. Perhaps, if she yielded to his wishes
now, without further argument, she might be able, later on, to induce him
to reconsider his decision--to persuade him to be merciful. He seemed to
read her thoughts with an uncanny insight.
"You'll stay?" he said.
She nodded, and he helped off the heavy fur wrap she was wearing. Then he
pressed the bell-push and, when Achille appeared, gave a curt order for
supper to be served. As the Frenchman departed his quick eyes flickered a
moment over Cara's beautiful face and milk-white shoulders. Decidedly, he
reflected, his master had good taste.
The supper, as might have been expected, was a very perfectly chosen
repast, and as the meal progressed Cara was fain to acknowledge that Brett
knew how to act the part of host most charmingly. On her side she played up
pluckily, hoping that by falling in with his humour she might yet win the
odd trick of the game.
It was not until they had reached the coffee and cigarette stage that he
reverted to the avowed object of her visit to the yacht.
"It was really rather a sporting attempt on your part," he remarked, "even
though foredoomed to failure.
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