“Indeed I do.”
“This is the finest bit of chivalry I’ve come across for a long time. The gentleman who jumped into the lions’ den for his mistress’s glove was hardly pluckier. Drop that ridiculous thing and come away. I’ll rescue you.”
“But I don’t want to be rescued. I really am enjoying myself. It’s not a case of courage at all,” Gavan protested.
This was too much. He should not tarnish himself to shield her, and Eppie burst out: “Nonsense, Gavan. I asked you to. You are only doing it because you are so kind, and to please me. It was very wrong of me. Put her down as Uncle Nigel says.”
“There, our little tyrant is honest, at all events. Drop it, Gavan. You should see the figure you cut with that popinjay in your arms. Come, you’ve won your spurs. Come away with me.”
But Gavan, smiling, shook his head. “No, I don’t want to, thanks. I did it to please her, if you like; but now I do it to please myself. Playing with dolls is a most amusing game,—and you are interrupting us at a most interesting point,” he added. He seemed, funnily, doll and all, older than the general as he said it. Incredulous but mystified, Uncle Nigel was forced to beat a retreat, and Gavan was left confronting his playmate.
“Why did you tell him that you enjoyed it?” she cried. “He’ll think you unmanly.”
“My dear Eppie, he won’t think me unmanly at all. Besides, I don’t care if he does.”
“I care.”
“But, Eppie, you take it too hard. Why should you care? It’s only funny. Why shouldn’t we amuse ourselves as we like? We are only children.”