There was a good deal of the Chandos blood in Dominga--unhappily she had inherited some of the characteristics of her cousin Sydney, and, like him, she was secretive and false. She was also endowed with his brains, his irresistible will, his wheedling tongue, and his red hair. To her mother's side she was indebted for her indolence and love of soft luxurious ease. Not a trustworthy or attractive character--is it? and yet some would declare, if they saw the graceful Red Cat, coiled up on her corner of the verandah, the indictment to be a libel, and that Dom was nothing more than a vivacious, shallow, impulsive creature. Truly she was a curious mixture, this slim Eurasian, with the patrician profile--and the dark marks in her filbert nails. Her mind was as restless as the ocean, her body was indolent and self-indulgent--which of the two would rule her life? Which god would Dominga follow--ease or ambition? Ambition; for ambition often carried luxury in her train. CHAPTER XXII Three weeks elapsed before Verona was convalescent, and during that time, she saw but little of Dominga and her mother; indeed, the attitude of the latter with respect to an invalid was invariably one of suppressed hostility. Sickness in the house was a visitation that Mrs. Chandos could not tolerate, and the patient was sensible that she was guilty of giving a great deal of trouble, and was more or less in disgrace. She and her mother never drew nearer. It was a painful fact, but they seemed to be cut off from one another by some impassable barrier of the spirit. On the other hand, Verona and her grandmother were drawn closer together day by day. "I do love you, Verona," announced Mrs. Lopez as she stroked her hair; "you are so quiet and so sweet-tempered; you remind me of my poor Lily. Dominga is not a bit like you; she is always dragging your mother to the station and the club. Your mother is busy trying to mix in society, but it is foolish--she gets no further, though she thinks she does; people only smile and whisper. For all her trouble she will soon find that 'by running in the boat you do not come to land.'" Verona made no reply; she knew nothing whatever of the station or her mother's position in Rajahpore. "Mrs. Lepell and my daughter are awfully sweet to one another," pursued the old lady; "but it is a rat and cat friendship! Mrs. Lepell will not have us; she would rather have the Cavalhos; and as for your mother's liking for Mrs. Lepell, she waters the creeper, but cuts the roots! She wants Dominga to make a grand marriage; Dominga, too, is willing; your father, he meddles not in these things." "No," assented Verona. "She tried to drag him to visit once or twice, but it was no use. Now and then she cannot move him. There are things he will _not_ do." There was a silence for some time, while Mrs. Lopez fed and fondled a delicate buff chicken she was nursing in her lap. Then she said suddenly: