"It doesn't matter really anyway," said Isabel, "because we are all dreaming the same thing, aren't we? You and I and Bugg, and—and your cousin Mr. Guy."
"Guy certainly is," answered Tony. "You have made a positively devastating conquest of poor Guy. How on earth did you manage to do it?"
Isabel opened her amber eyes. "I don't know," she said innocently. "He was very nice and kind. I only talked to him and smiled at him."
"Ah, that accounts for it," said Tony solemnly.
He put his hat down and seated himself on the sofa. "You really ought to be more careful," he added. "It isn't fair to go about bewitching respectable secretaries. You never know what they may turn into."
"Have you told him?" asked Isabel.
"Everything," said Tony. "He is yearning to plunge into the fray and re-seat you on the throne of Livadia. I left him practising sword exercises in the hall."
Isabel laughed, and opening the bag that was lying on the table beside her took out a little silver cigarette case, which she offered to Tony.
"Do have one," she said. "I bought it yesterday afternoon out of the money you gave me. It was very extravagant, but I love shopping. You see I have not been allowed to do any in London."
Tony, who never smoked anything but Virginian tobacco, helped himself bravely to a gold tipped product of the Turkish Empire, and lit it with apparent zest.