"Well, interesting is more the word,"
"Then I probably shall not care for it. The places you call interesting are so dull!"
However, Philip carries out his plan, and takes her to the little straggling village of Brane l'Alleud. The churchyard full of English graves and monuments quite distresses Eleanor.
"To think of all these brave men dying nobly for their country, and then being buried in this out-of-the-way place!" she exclaims.
"I suppose it is all the same to them," replies Philip.
"But I don't like the idea, nor am I fond of the sight of graves, and the thought of death. Oh, Philip! what is that fat old man saying to you?"
"He wants to show us a grave over the Marquis of Anglesea's leg, and is the proud possessor of the house where it was amputated. It was buried in a polished coffin, and has a monument erected to its memory. But who are you eyeing so intently, Eleanor?" turning as he speaks. "Why! If it isn't that impudent young puppy again, who mopped up the milk!"
"Cream, Philip, cream."
"Well! don't look at him, darling," putting his arm through hers to draw her gently away. "We will escape from the voluble Belgian with the leg story. He wants to show us the boot that once cased the foot. Such a fuss about nothing!"
Eleanor returns to the carriage, but, as they drive to the huge mound with the Belgic Lion on the summit, she is conscious that Herbert Dallison is following.