"I was telling him that we had had our breakfast."

"Let's get out of this sepulchre," said their host, who was
recovering himself. "There's a roasting fire in my den. Of course
you'll have something to eat--hot coffee, anyhow--I've trained my cook to
make coffee like a Frenchwoman. The housekeeper will take charge of you,
if you want to tidy up, and you must excuse our ramshackle ways, please.
I don't believe there's ever been a lady in this house before, you know."

He led her to the smoking-room and ensconced her in the great
chair by the fire. Smilingly she refused a series of offers which
ranged from a sheepskin mantle which he had got in the Pamirs and
which he thought might fit her, to hot whisky and water as a specific
against a chill. But she accepted a pair of slippers and deftly
kicked off the brogues provided by Mrs. Morran. Also, while Dickson
started rapaciously on a second breakfast, she allowed him to pour
her out a cup of coffee.

"You are a soldier?" she asked.

"Two years infantry--5th Battalion Lennox Highlanders, and then
Flying Corps. Top-hole time I had too till the day before
the Armistice, when my luck gave out and I took a nasty toss.
Consequently I'm not as fast on my legs now as I'd like to be."

"You were a friend of Captain Kennedy?"

"His oldest. We were at the same private school, and he was at
m'tutors, and we were never much separated till he went abroad to
cram for the Diplomatic and I started east to shoot things."