"Captain Blunt doesn't seem to be a very happy person," I said. "He seems to have a grudge against everybody. People make him wince. The things they do, the things they say. He must be awfully mature."
Mills gave me a sidelong look. It met mine of the same character and we both smiled without openly looking at each other. At the end of the Rue de Rome the violent chilly breath of the mistral enveloped the victoria in a great widening of brilliant sunshine without heat. We turned to the right, circling at a stately pace about the rather mean obelisk which stands at the entrance to the Prado.
"I don't know whether you are mature or not," said Mills humorously. "But I think you will do. You …"
"Tell me," I interrupted, "what is really Captain Blunt's position there?"
And I nodded at the alley of the Prado opening before us between the rows of the perfectly leafless trees.
"Thoroughly false, I should think. It doesn't accord either with his illusions or his pretensions, or even with the real position he has in the world. And so what between his mother and the General Headquarters and the state of his own feelings he…"
"He is in love with her," I interrupted again.
"That wouldn't make it any easier. I'm not at all sure of that. But if so it can't be a very idealistic sentiment. All the warmth of his idealism is concentrated upon a certain 'Américain, Catholique et gentilhomme.…'"
The smile which for a moment dwelt on his lips was not unkind.
