"I believe you're--sorry," she said slowly.
But in that she miscalculated. Brett would be an unrepentant sinner to the
end of his days. He laughed and shook his head.
"Not in the way you mean. Frankly and honestly--Oh, yes"--catching the
faint quizzical gleam in her eyes--"I can be both when I want to. The Devil
quoting Scripture, you know! Frankly, then, I'm merely sorry that my plan
miscarried. It was a splendid plan! Its only fault was that it didn't
succeed.... But I know when I'm beaten. And you've beaten me."
A few minutes later they stood together on the deck, waiting for the dinghy
to come alongside.
"Good-night, Brett," she said, holding out her hand.
He lifted it to his lips with audacious grace.
"It will be a bad night--thanks to you!" he returned with a last flash of
mocking humour.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE VISION FULFILLED
Ann opened her next morning's mail with nervously eager fingers. A couple
of tradesmen's bills, an advertisement for somebody's infallible cure-all,
and a letter from Robin saying that he would reach home the following
day--that was all. Not a line from Brett. Nothing in explanation of his
last evening's telegram.
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