"A symbol of what?"
"Ah! The unusual."
"And what is there unusual to-day?" he almost asked, but did not ask. It would, of course, have been utterly monstrous to put such a question, knowing what he knew. He thought: I'm not a bit nearer telling her than I was when I came.
After the parlour-maid had poured out the champagne Concepcion picked up her glass and absently glanced through it and said:
"You know, G.J., I shouldn't be in the least surprised to hear that Carly was killed out there. I shouldn't, really."
In amazement G.J. ceased to eat.
"You needn't look at me like that," she said. "I'm quite serious. One may as well face the risks. He does. Of course they're all heroes. There are millions of heroes. But I do honestly believe that my Carly would be braver than anyone. By the way, did I ever tell you he was considered the best shot in Cheshire?"
"No. But I knew," answered G.J. feebly. He would have expected her to be a little condescending towards Carlos, to whom in brains she was infinitely superior. But no! Carlos had mastered her, and she was grateful to him for mastering her. He had taught her in three weeks more than she had learnt on two continents in thirty years. She talked of him precisely as any wee wifie might have talked of the soldier-spouse. And she called him "Carly"!
Neither of them had touched the champagne. G.J. decided that he would postpone any attempt to tell her until her cousin arrived; her [68] cousin might arrive at any moment now.