“I have given her chocolates, and a couple of pairs of gloves, and answered her notes; and if Cossie imagines that every man who gives her chocolates, and answers notes about tea and tennis, is seriously in love with her, she must be incredibly foolish.  Cossie knows in her heart that I have never cast her a thought, except as a relation; and, as a matter of fact, of the two girls I like Delia the best!  I don’t want to say unpleasant things when I’m on the point of going away—­probably for years.  I hoped to have spent a jolly long day among you, but from what you have just told me I really could not face it, and I must ask you to say good-bye to my cousins for me.  I will write to you, Aunt Emma, as soon as I get out to Rangoon.  You have always been very kind, and made me feel at home here; you may be sure I won’t forget it.”  And he stooped down suddenly and gave her a hearty kiss.  Then before the poor stout lady could struggle out of the cavity which her weight had made in the Chesterfield Douglas had departed.  She heard the close of the hall door, immediately followed by the click of the garden gate.  Yes, he was gone!  And Cossie, who all the time had been listening on the top of the stairs, instantly descended like a wolf on the fold.  She would have run out bareheaded after Douglas, but that her more prudent sister actually restrained her by violent physical force; and then, what a scene she made!  Oh, what recriminations and angry speeches and reproaches she showered upon her unhappy parent!

“You told me to sound him about an engagement, and I did.  Oh, but it was a hateful job, and here’s my thanks!” whimpered Mrs. Larcher.  “He looked awfully white and stern, and said he only likes you as a cousin, and that he had no intention of anything—­and I believe him.  It was only in the last two months, since Freddy Soames broke it off, that you’ve gone out of your way to hang on to Douglas.  I’m sure I wish there had been something in it—­he’s a dear good boy, and I could love him like a son,” and the poor lady sobbed aloud.

“You bungled the whole thing, of course!” cried her ungrateful offspring, “I might have known you would put your foot in it; you’ve let him slip through your fingers and just ruined my last chance.  Oh, if I’d only talked to him myself, I’d have been on my way to Burma in six months!”

Then Cossie broke down, buried her head in a musty cushion, and wept sore.

However, after a little time, the broken-hearted damsel recovered; her feelings were elastic, and she allowed herself to be revived with a stiff whisky and soda and a De Reske cigarette.  On the following day she had so far recovered as to be able to make a careful toilet and walk out, to call upon her two most intimate pals, in order to inform them—­in the very strictest confidence—­that she was engaged to her cousin, Douglas Shafto, who had just got a splendid appointment in Burma and would come home in two years!  Then she added impressively, “I don’t want this given out—­mother would be furious; but the first time you come across him I don’t mind if you whisper the news to Freddy Soames.”