What had the boy done to fill him with such tragic bitterness? Was he
Two-Hawks? Cutty dismissed this doubt instantly. He recalled the episode
of the boy's conduct when confronted by the photograph of his mother.
No human being could be a play actor in such a moment. The boy's emotion
had been deep and real. Cutty recognized the fact that he had become as
a block in the middle of a Chinese puzzle; only Fate could move him to
his appointed place.
But offer marriage to Kitty so that he could provide for her!
Mechanically he rummaged his clothes press for the suit he was to take
to Hawksley. Well, why not? He could settle five thousand a year on her.
His departure for the Balkans--he might be gone a year or more--could be
legally construed as desertion. And with pretty clothes and freedom she
would soon find some young chap to her liking. But would a girl like
Kitty see it from his point of view? The marriage could take place an
hour or two before he went aboard his ship. Hang it, Hawksley wasn't
so far off. Kitty couldn't possibly be offended if he laid the business
squarely on the table. To provide for Molly's girl!
When Kuroki announced that breakfast was ready, Cutty went into the
living room for Kitty, whom he had not yet seen. He found her by a
window fascinated by the splendour of the panorama as seen in the
morning light. Not a vestige of the tears and disorder in which he had
left her. What had been behind those tears? Dainty and refreshing; to
the eye as though she had stepped out of a bandbox. Compromised?
That was utter rot! Wasn't Miss Frances here? Clitter-clatter,
clitter-clatter. But Cutty was not aware that it was no longer in his
head but in his heart.
"Breakfast is served, Your Highness," he announced with a grave salaam.
Kitty pirouetted. For some reason she could not explain to herself
she wanted to laugh, sing, dance. Perhaps it was because she was only
twenty-four. Or it might have had its origin in the tonicky awakening
among all these beautiful furnishings.
She assumed a haughty expression--such as the Duchess of
Gerolstein assumes when she appoints the private to the office of
generalissimo--and with a careless wave of the hand said: "Summon His
Highness!"