MAINLY ABOUT MYRA.
The train slowed down into Mallaig station. I thrilled with anticipation, for now I had only the journey on the boat, and Myra would be waiting for me at Glenelg. The train had hardly stopped when I seized my bag and jumped out on to the platform. The next instant I was nearly knocked back into the carriage again. A magnificent Great Dane had jumped at me with a deep bark of flattering welcome, and planted his paws on my shoulders.
“Sholto, my dear old man!” I cried in excitement, dropping my bag and looking round expectantly. It was Myra’s dog, and there, sure enough, was a beautiful vision of brown eyes and brown-gold hair, in a heather-coloured Burberry costume, running down the platform to meet me.
“Well—darling?” I said, as I met her half-way.
“Well?” she whispered, as she took my hand, and I looked into the depths of those wonderful eyes. Truly I was a lucky dog. The world was a most excellent place, full of delightful people; and even if I were an impecunious young barrister I was richer than Crœsus in the possession of those beautiful brown eyes, which looked on all the world with the gentle affection of a tender and indulgent sister, but which looked on me with——Oh! hang it all!—a fellow can’t write about these sort of things when they affect him personally. Besides, they belong to me—thank God!
“I got your telegram, dear,” said Myra, as we strolled out of the station behind the porter who had appropriated my bag. Sholto brought up the rear. He had too great an opinion of his own position to be jealous of me—or at any rate he was too dignified to show it—and he had always admitted me into the inner circle of his friendship in a manner that was very charming, if not a little condescending.
“Did you, darling?” I said, in reply to Myra’s remark.
“Yes; it was delivered first thing this morning, and father was very pleased about it.”
“Really!” I exclaimed. “I am glad. I was afraid he might be rather annoyed.”
“I was a little bit surprised myself,” she confessed, “though I’m sure I don’t know why I should be. Dad’s a perfect dear—he always was and he always will be. But he has been very determined about our engagement. When I told him you’d wired you were coming he was tremendously pleased. He kept on saying, ‘I’m glad; that’s good news, little woman, very good news. ’Pon my soul I’m doocid glad!’ He said you were a splendid fellow—I can’t think what made him imagine that—but he said it several times, so I suppose he had some reason for it. I was frightfully pleased. I like you to be a splendid fellow, Ron!”