Were we all mistaken?  Was this the way in which a designing woman would speak of the object of her designs?  Not that I thought so hardly of Mrs. Lascelles myself; but I did think that she might well fall in love with Bob Evers, at least as well as he with her.  Was this, then, the way in which a woman would be likely to speak of the young man with whom she had fallen in love?  To me the appreciation sounded too frank and discerning and acute.  Yet I could not call it dispassionate, and frankness was this woman’s outstanding merit, though I was beginning to discover others as well.  Moreover, the fact remained that they had been greatly talked about; that at any rate must be stopped and I was there to stop it.

I began to pick my words.

“It’s all Eton, except what is in the blood, and it’s all a question of manners, or rather of manner.  Don’t misunderstand me, Mrs. Lascelles.  I don’t say that Bob isn’t independent in character as well as in his ways, but only that when all’s said he’s still a boy and not a man.  He can’t possibly have a man’s experience of the world, or even of himself.  He has a young head on his shoulders, after all, if not a younger one than many a boy with half the assurance that you admire in him.”

Mrs. Lascelles looked at me point-blank.

“Do you mean that he can’t take care of himself?”

“I don’t say that.”

“Then what do you say?”

The fine eyes met mine without a flicker.  The full mouth was curved at the corners in a tolerant, unsuspecting smile.  It was hard to have to make an enemy of so handsome and good-humoured a woman.  And was it necessary, was it even wise?  As I hesitated she turned and glanced downward once more toward the glacier, then rose and went to the lip of our grassy ledge, and as she returned I caught the sound which she had been the first to hear.  It was the gritty planting of nailed boots upon a hard, smooth rock.

“I’m afraid you can’t say it now,” whispered Mrs. Lascelles.  “Here’s Mr. Evers himself, coming this way back from the Monte Rosa hut!  I’m going to give him a surprise!”

And it was a genuine one that she gave him, for I heard his boyish greeting before I saw his hot brown face, and there was no mistaking the sudden delight of both.  It was sudden and spontaneous, complete, until his eyes lit on me.  Even then his smile did not disappear, but it changed, as did his tone.

“Good heavens!” cried Bob.  “How on earth did you get up here?  By rail to the Riffelberg, I hope?”

“On my sticks.”

“It was much too far for him,” added Mrs. Lascelles, “and all my fault for showing him the way.  But I’m afraid there was contributory obstinacy in Captain Clephane, because he simply wouldn’t turn back.  And now tell us about yourself, Mr. Evers; surely we were not coming back this way?”

“We were not,” said Bob, with a something sardonic in his little laugh, “but I thought I might as well.  It’s the long way, six miles on end upon the glacier.”