‘I see it all,’ cried he, as he paced his room in self-examination. ‘I have suffered myself to be carried away by a burst of momentary impulse. I brought up all my reserves, and have failed utterly. Nothing can save me now, but a “change of front.” It is the last bit of generalship remaining--a change of front--a change of front!’ And he repeated the words over and over, as though hoping they might light up his ingenuity. ‘I might go and tell her that all I had been saying was mere jest--that I could never have dreamed of asking her to follow me into barbarism: that to go to Guatemala was equivalent to accepting a yellow fever--it was courting disease, perhaps death; that my insistence was a mere mockery, in the worst possible taste; but that I had already agreed with Lord Danesbury, our engagement should be cancelled; that his lordship’s memory of our conversation would corroborate me in saying I had no intention to propose such a sacrifice to her; and indeed I had but provoked her to say the very things, and use the very arguments, I had already employed to myself as a sort of aid to my own heartfelt convictions. Here would be a “change of front” with a vengeance. ‘She will already have written off the whole interview: the despatch is finished,’ cried he, after a moment. ‘It is a change of front the day after the battle. The people will read of my manoeuvre with the bulletin of victory before them. ‘Poor Frank Touchet used to say,’ cried he aloud, ‘“Whenever they refuse my cheques at the Bank, I always transfer my account”; and fortunately the world is big enough for these tactics for several years. That’s a change of front too, if I knew how to adapt it. I must marry another woman--there’s nothing else for it. It is the only escape; and the question is, who shall she be?’ The more he meditated over this change of front the more he saw that his destiny pointed to the Greek. If he could see clearly before him to a high career in diplomacy, the Greek girl, in everything but fortune, would suit him well. Her marvellous beauty, her grace of manner, her social tact and readiness, her skill in languages, were all the very qualities most in request. Such a woman would make the full complement, by her fascinations, of all that her husband could accomplish by his abilities. The little indiscretions of old men--especially old men--with these women, the lapses of confidence they made them, the dropping admissions of this or that intention, made up what Walpole knew to be high diplomacy.