The boat was very small indeed; her face was scarcely a yard from
his. She, in his eyes, surrounded by the glamour of beauty and vast
wealth; he, in her eyes, surrounded by the glamour of masculine
intrepidity and the brilliance of a throne.
But all voyages come to an end, either at the shore or at the bottom
of the sea, and at length the dinghy passed between the stone
jetties of the harbour. The Prince rowed to the nearest steps, tied
up the boat, and they landed. It was six o'clock in the morning, and
a day of gorgeous sunlight had opened. Few people were about at
that early hour.
'And now, what next?' said the Prince. 'I must take you to an hotel.'
'I am in your hands,' she acquiesced, with a smile which sent the
blood racing through his veins. He perceived now that she was
tired and overcome, suffering from a sudden and natural reaction.
At the H?tel Wellington the Prince told the sleepy door-keeper that
they had come by the early train from Bruges, and wanted
breakfast at once. It was absurdly early, but a common English
sovereign will work wonders in any Belgian hotel, and in a very
brief time Nella and the Prince were breakfasting on the verandah
of the hotel upon chocolate that had been specially and hastily
brewed for them.
'I never tasted such excellent chocolate,' claimed the Prince.
The statement was wildly untrue, for the H?tel Wellington is not
celebrated for its chocolate.
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