“Cossie is a foolish girl,” admitted her aunt, “and has made heaps of mistakes; but if she sees her way to bettering herself, she can be as determined as anyone.  Of course you will have to run down and say ‘good-bye.’”

“Yes, I shall go to-morrow.”

“I must say I don’t envy you the visit!” declared his mother with a malicious smile.

“No, I daresay it will be disagreeable—­but Aunt Emma will see me through.  In Cossie’s case it is not a matter of deep attachment; she only wants to play me off against that fellow Soames.  Ah, here is Michael jingling his tray outside; he wants to lay the cloth and we had better clear.”

In some respects the dreaded farewell at “Monte Carlo” was even more trying than Douglas had anticipated.  His relatives had learned and digested his news; to them, it seemed an uplifting of the entire connection.  After pushing congratulations and some high-flown talk respecting the delights of his future career and “position,” the girls, as if by mutual agreement, rose and left him alone with their mother.

Thus abandoned to a tete-a-tete, after a lengthy silence, Mrs. Larcher, sitting among the collapsible spring’s, began to speak in a shaky voice.

“Ahem!  We have all seen, Douglas, how devotedly attached you are to Cossie, and the marked attentions you have paid her.  Of course, on such a small salary you were too honourable to say anything definite.  Ahem!  But now that you are in a better position, with splendid prospects, I have no objection to an engagement, and as soon as you are comfortably settled in Rangoon, Cossie will join you.”

Douglas instantly lifted himself out of his chair and confronted the unfortunate catspaw; standing erect before her, he said: 

“My dear Aunt Emma, kindly understand once for all that I am not in love with Cossie.  I have never made love to her, or ever shall.  I like her as a cousin—­but no more.  Even if I were madly in love, I could not marry; my screw will barely keep myself.”

“Oh, but you’ll get on!” interposed his aunt eagerly.  “They all do out there, and you who are so well educated and gentlemanly will soon be drawing high pay, and keeping dozens of black servants, and a motor—­and you know poor Cossie is so fond of you.”

“I am truly sorry to hear you say so; I cannot imagine why she should be fond of me; or why, quite lately, she has got this preposterous idea into her head.  Naturally it is a delicate subject to discuss with you, Aunt Emma; but I declare on my honour that I have never thought of Cossie but just as a jolly sort of girl and a cousin.”

“But you have given her presents, my darling boy; yes, and written to her,” urged the poor lady, clinging to the last straw.