"You must go back to bed, Master Hamilton," commanded Betty in her soft,
low voice.
He caught her around the waist and said, laughing, "You're a good girl,
Betty."
"I hope I am, sir. But you must go back to bed," she answered.
"And you're pretty, too. Pretty and good don't usually go together," said
George, drawing her close to him.
"No, but you must go back to bed, Master Hamilton, or you will be very
ill," she pleaded.
"I'll go for a kiss, Betty," he answered, bending over to take it. But
she put up her hands to ward him off.
"I'll give you the kiss, Master Hamilton, if you insist. But it will be
only a bribe to induce you to do what is for your own good, and if you
take it, I shall never come back to your room again."
"Ah, Ned, here's another good girl!" exclaimed George, releasing Betty.
"There are two of them in the world! Who would have suspected it? Keep
your kisses for your husband, Betty."
"Yes, Master Hamilton," she answered demurely, giving me a luminous
glance, all unconscious of its meaning. The glance was my first hint that
perhaps Betty had at times been thinking of me.
"All right! Here's to bed, my girl," said Hamilton.
She smoothed the bed covering and turning to leave the room, said, "I'll
come back when the physician arrives."
I could easily see that Hamilton was going to have what the old women
call a "bad night," so I asked Betty to sit with him, and she consenting,
I went by river to my lodging in Whitehall, where I collected a few
necessary articles in a bag and returned quickly as possible to the Old
Swan.
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