"Cheer up, mate," said Bill. "What's the matter now? Still off it because the ole lady told you off? You've stopped 'er mouth, any'ow."
"Well, an' even if I 'ave, 'ow much better are we then? We might sit 'ere for a year, an' never get nearer doin' anything than we are now. 'Ow are we goin' to get to know a toff like ole Sir FitzPeter, eh? 'Ow can we.... 'Ullo, Farr, what is it now?"
"Lord, there standeth at thy door one desiring entrance; and verily he bringeth with him a maiden possessing the rarest beauty, so that if her mind and attainments be but of a piece with her fairness of face, not less than ten thousand pieces of gold would be her price."
Alf gaped at him.
"I don't know what the 'ell you think you're talkin' about, Farr," he said at length. "But bring 'ooever it is along 'ere."
Mustapha bowed and retreated.
"If there's a lady in the case," said Bill, "Lucy 'ad better cut away. 'Ere! skedaddle, Lucy—quick! You ain't dressed for company."
Lucy departed disconsolately for the house, quite unable to understand why she was thus dismissed. In her lord's honor she had put on her most striking finery. She had touched up her eyes with kohl, her cheeks with carmine and her finger-tips with henna. She was comfortably conscious of looking her best. Why, then, was she dismissed the Presence?
"'Ere," called Bill after her, "not that way; you'll run right into 'em.... Lumme, 'ere they come.... Why, Alf—it's 'er—your girl ... an'—an' Lootenant Allen with 'er. 'E'd know me for sure. I'm off."
And while Isobel and Allen were occupied in gazing speechlessly after Lucy's disappearing form, Bill beat a panic-stricken and precipitate retreat into the rose-garden. Alf, unnerved almost as much by the unlooked-for good fortune which brought Isobel to him as by the embarrassment of having to face his old platoon-commander, turned to receive his visitors.