“And are you not obliged to her? Anyway, I am in her debt for life. We will invite the Hodsons and Mrs. de Castro, and have what is called a ‘quiet wedding.’ No presents, no favours, no cake.”
“I see you have it all cut and dried,” I said; “you have taken my breath away.”
“I don’t know about your breath,” he replied, “but I shall certainly take you—or what remains of you—away. On our journey home we will stop in Switzerland for a time, and there, among the mountains, you may be able to pick up your spirits and recover your youth. Otherwise your miserable white face may be attributed to me.”
“I suppose the last four or five months have left a mark upon me. Somehow I don’t think I can ever look or feel as I used to do until Ronnie is free.”
“There is four o’clock striking,” said Brian, “and no doubt you will be thirsting for tea. Shall we go?”
“Yes, you have had a long day for an invalid, and I am sure Mrs. de Castro, who is much taken with ‘my gentleman friend,’ has made a cake in your honour.”
“All right,” he said rising, “we can do the fort to-morrow, and just take a run round the station and the barracks before we steer for Infantry Lines.”
As we rolled smoothly along my companion urged me to give him an answer to the question of a speedy wedding. I could see his point of view; business matters in England claimed his attention; he also declared I must have an immediate change of climate. I begged to have a day or two to consider the question and to talk it over with Ronnie.
When we drove under the lattice-work porch I was amazed to find Mrs. Hodson on the steps. At a second glance I saw that she looked paler than ever and was evidently unnerved.
“There has been an accident to your brother,” she began the instant the car stopped, “and I have come to fetch you,” pointing to where her victoria was drawn up at the side of the bungalow.