"He pronounces all his g's," I said, "and—did you ever see him in a silk hat?"
"I don't think you are really attached to him, dear." (The "dear" was a really creditable sacrifice to the situation.)
"I sometimes think," I murmured, "that one never knows one's own heart until some sudden circumstance puts it to the test. Now if I had a rival—in you, for instance—and I suddenly saw myself losing—but, of course, that is impossible so far as you are concerned. Because of the Count."
"The Count isn't in it," said Miss Callis firmly. "At least at present."
"But," I protested, "somebody must provide for him! I was so happy in the thought that you had undertaken it."
Miss Callis gave me back my hand. She looked as if she would have liked to throw it overboard.
"As you say," she said, "it is a little difficult to make up one's mind. Don't you think those rocks to the right may be the Lorelei? I must go and tell Mrs. Malt. She won't be fit to travel with for a week if she misses the Lorelei." And Miss Callis left me to reflect upon the inconsistencies of my sex.
"Do you realise," said Dicky, as, with an assumed air of nonchalance, he sauntered up and took her chair, "that we shall be in Cologne in five hours?"
"Fateful Cologne," I said. "There are Roman remains, I believe, as well as the Cathedral and the scent. Also a Museum of Industrial Art, but we'll skip that."
"We'll skip all of it," replied Mr. Dod, with determination, "you and I and Isabel. The train for Paris leaves at nine precisely."