The happy hours passed. They all saw Mary off by her train, and a little later the General and his daughter went back to Eastbourne.
There were many delightful days to follow, days when Guy ran down, dined with the General, and put up for the night at the “Queen’s.”
And then the time drew near for Guy to take up his new post, to leave London for Madrid. Still, things were not any further advanced. In spite of Lady Mary’s powerful and persistent advocacy, the Earl remained as obdurate as ever. If Guy insisted upon making Isobel Clandon his wife, all friendly relations between father and son would be suspended.
On the night preceding the young diplomatist’s departure, there was a farewell dinner, this time at a less public restaurant than the Savoy. The party was the same, Guy and his sister, Isobel and her father.
Lady Mary would have to stay the night in London. This she had arranged to do with an old girl friend, now married, Lady May Brendon.
The Earl, with that uncanny sense which distinguishes some people, suddenly had an inkling of the truth. Guy had said good-bye to them the day before. “I believe it’s all a blind,” he burst out angrily, a few minutes before Mary’s departure. “You may be staying with May Brendon for the night, but she is not the reason of your visit. You are going to meet that wretched girl.”
Mary could never bring herself to tell a lie. She had already admitted she had made the acquaintance of Isobel Clandon, and had taken a great liking to her.
“To tell the truth, I am. Guy is giving a dinner to-night, in order to bid her farewell. It is only right he should have the support of some member of his family.”
“You deliberately go against my wishes,” thundered her father, in his most irate tones.
“In this instance, I fear I must,” replied his daughter very quietly and firmly. “I love you very dearly, but I love Guy too. He has chosen for himself, and in my opinion he has chosen wisely.”