"I always give Guy his breakfast when he goes to London," she says, calmly yet hastily.
"Check!" says Cyril, at this instant, with his eyes on the board. "My dear Musgrave, what a false move!—a fatal delay. Don't you know bold play generally wins?"
"Sometimes it loses," retorts Taffy, innocently; which reply, to his surprise, appears to cause Mr. Chetwoode infinite amusement.
"Whenever you do go," says Lilian to Sir Guy, "don't forget my sweetmeats: I shall be dreaming of them until I see you again. Have you a pocket-book? Yes. Well, put down in it what I most particularly love. I like chocolate creams and burnt almonds better than anything in the world."
Cyril, with dreamy sentiment, "How I wish I was a burnt almond!"
Miss Chesney, viciously, "If you were, what a bite I would give you!"
Taffy, to Sir Guy, "Lilian's tastes and mine are one. If you are really going to bring lollypops, please make the supply large. When I think of burnt almonds I feel no end hungry."
Lilian, vigorously, "You shan't have any of mine, Taffy. Don't imagine it! Yesterday you ate every one Cyril brought me from Fenston. I crossed the room for one instant, and when I came back the box was literally cleared. Wasn't it a shame? I shan't go into partnership with you over Sir Guy's confections."
Taffy, sotto voce, "Greedy little thing!" Then suddenly addressing Sir Guy, "I think I saw your old colonel—Trant—about the neighborhood to-day."
Cyril draws himself up with a start and looks hard at the lad, who is utterly unconscious of the private bombshell he has discharged.