Isobel laughed gaily. “Dear old Maurice! Why he used to carry me about when I was a baby. And dad and I are awfully fond of him. He is just a big, dear elder brother.”
“I don’t quite know that I like a big, dear elder brother, when he happens to be a cousin,” replied Guy, a little grimly.
Isobel smiled her most delightful smile.
“Oh, Guy, I believe you are really jealous, and of poor old Maurice, of all people. My dear boy, he only lives for his work; he is a barrister, you know, and is made up of parchment.”
“He looked very human when he shook hands with you,” remarked Guy drily. “I fancy there’s not much parchment where you are concerned.”
“Silly boy, to even think of such things. And what about me, when you get to Madrid? I am told the Spanish ladies are very fascinating. What chance shall I have against them.”
So she turned the tables on Guy, and he had to defend himself against disloyalty in the future.
Then the train steamed off. With a hearty handshake from the General, with the kisses of his sweetheart and sister warm upon his lips and his cheeks, Guy Rossett set out on his journey to Spain. Little could he foresee the adventures that were in store for him.