"Especially to any one beautiful," added Tony. "It's wonderful how beauty quickens one's ethical sense." He turned to Isabel. "How would you like to go to a music hall to-night?" he asked. "Very much," said Isabel promptly. A faint cloud of disapproval showed itself on Guy's forehead. "Don't you think a theatre would be more--more appropriate?" he asked. "No," said Tony, "I don't. Isabel knows nothing of the deeper and better side of our English national life, and it's quite time she learned. I shall take her to the Empire." He paused. "I don't like leaving her alone all this afternoon though," he added thoughtfully. "I suppose you couldn't possibly snatch an hour or two, Guy----?" "Oh, I shall be all right," interrupted Isabel hastily. "You mustn't think of putting yourself out for me, Cousin Guy." Guy laid down his knife and fork. "My dear Isabel," he said in that precise and dignified manner of his; "when you know Tony as well as I do, you won't pay the faintest attention to his remarks. I am not the least busy this afternoon and I shall be only too pleased if you will accept my company." "I shall be delighted," said Isabel, "but I am not really frightened of Da Freitas now. Look what I got yesterday." She slipped her hand into an inside pocket of the tailormade coat that she was wearing, and pulled out a tiny little ivory-handled pistol, which she held out for Tony's inspection. "It's one of Harrod's," she added, "I saw it in his list. Isn't it nice?" "Charming," said Tony. "I had no idea that Harrod was so blood-thirsty." "Is it loaded?" inquired Guy with a faint trace of anxiety. "Oh, yes," said Isabel promptly. "Harrod says it will kill a man at ten yards." "You ought to hit Da Freitas all right at ten yards," observed Tony critically. "He's very podgy." "You mustn't encourage her in such ideas," broke in Guy. "We are not in Livadia or South America." He turned to Isabel. "People don't shoot at each other in England," he explained. "It's against the law and they would be very severely punished. You had better give me that to look after for you." Isabel shook her head. "I shall shoot at him if he tries to take me back," she said with determination. "I would rather go to prison than marry Pedro." "A very healthy and reasonable sentiment," remarked Tony. "Guy has the most morbid ideas about the sanctity of human life. He ought to belong to the National Liberal Club." Isabel put back the pistol into her pocket, and after one more unavailing effort Guy abandoned his protest as useless. "I suppose it's on a par with the rest of the situation," he observed gloomily. "We shall probably all end in prison or something worse before we've finished." Tony laughed and pushed across the whisky. "Never mind, Guy," he replied in an encouraging voice. "We shall be able to look back on beautiful and well-spent lives, and that's the only thing that really matters."