“Is this—this good news—going to make any difference to you, Guy?”
There was just a note of anxiety in her voice.
Guy looked at her squarely.
“What do you mean, Mary? Difference in what way?”
“Difference between you and Isobel?” answered Mary, in a voice that shook a little. “You love each other so dearly. I would hate to think that anything could come between you.”
Guy laughed his hearty, boyish laugh.
“Dear old girl, you know I have always told the truth to you. I would sooner go to the devil with Isobel Clandon, than to heaven with some delightful bride that our dear old dad had chosen for me. As soon as I am on my feet, Isobel will be my wife.”
Mary patted his hand affectionately.
“I am so delighted to hear you say that. But one never quite knows men. There is father, in a way sentimental, but on certain things he can be as hard as granite.”
Guy Rossett frowned.