"There will be a month in Switzerland! Think of it—the Alps at last! Three weeks of Paris; three more of Ireland, and two in Scotland with the Camerons. Did you know I was going to your Scotland and to Argyll?"
Trevelyan turned away from the window.
"No. Since when?"
"The Camerons asked me last week. They are to have a house party, I think. They asked John, too—"
Trevelyan bit his lip.
"Is John going?"
"Not for the full time, but he hopes to get a three days' leave."
Trevelyan came back to the fire and drummed on the mantel.
"When we were children," he said, suddenly, "down at the Fort, I used to tell you about Scotland. I am glad you are to see it. You will like it! And when you watch the sea beat against the crags, and the breakers tossing their white heads, you can think of me, remembering it used to be my home. I hope you will see a storm," Trevelyan went on, "such a storm as I used to glory in as a little chap! They don't have such storms anywhere else, I think!"
He stopped short, and looked hard at the fire.