Brenda laughed, and shook her head.
'I have a melancholy presentiment that if you telegraphed for him he would not come. There is a vulgar but weighty proverb about making one's own bed, which he might recommend to our notice.'
'Then Theo must have changed!'
Brenda raised her round blue eyes, and glanced sideways out of the window. She was playing idly with the strap of the sash, tapping the back of her hand with it.
'Theo,' she observed indifferently, 'is the incarnation of steadfastness. He has not changed in any perceptible way. But he is, before all else, a war-correspondent. I cannot imagine that anyone should possess the power of dragging him away from the seat of war.'
Mrs. Huston smiled vaguely for her own satisfaction. Her imagination was apparently capable of greater things. It was rather to be deplored that, when she smiled, the expression of her beautiful face was what might (by a true friend behind her back) be called a trifle vacuous.
'He wrote,' continued the younger sister, 'a very good article the other day, which came just within the limits of my understanding. It was upon the dangers of alliance; and he showed that an ally who, in any one way, might at some time prove disadvantageous, is better avoided from the very first. It was àpropos of the Turkish-Christian subjects welcoming a Russian invasion. It seems to me, Alice, that our position is rather within the reach of that argument.'
'Being a soldier's wife, I do not know much about military matters; but it seems to me that a retreat should be safely covered at all costs.'
'Not at all costs,' said Brenda significantly. Her colour had changed, and there was a wave of pink slowly mounting over her throat.
Mrs. Huston smiled serenely, and shrugged her shoulders.