“I think it is most probable that she would. She takes an interest in you, Charlie, but I don’t believe she cares for you at all in the way you want. Well, you know that she is to spend Sunday at the Residency whenever she is at Baghdad. Now do you think that she would find any peace and comfort in her Sundays if she were always obliged to meet a rejected lover with reproachful eyes? You would make her life a burden to her.” “I might go away,” he murmured, dolefully enough, for it is one thing to despair of your own chances, and quite another to have them pronounced hopeless by some one else. “Yes; and sacrifice your prospects irretrievably just as Sir Dugald has got you this post, in the hope that you would do better here with him than you have hitherto. I suppose you would intend such a move as a gentle intimation to poor Miss Anstruther that your ruin lay at her door? No, don’t be furious, my dear boy; I only say it looks like it. You would go away with some of those wild Arabs or Kurds, I presume; but would that be much better than living a civilised life at Baghdad, and seeing Cecil every Sunday?” “You are too horribly practical and calculating, Cousin Elma. Not to speak to her for two years is dreadful. How can I stand it?” “It’s better than being refused, at any rate,” said Lady Haigh. “But you know, Charlie, I can’t promise that she will listen to you then, even if she has learnt to care for you. She is a very conscientious girl, and quite feels, I believe, that she has a special mission here.” “Hang missions!” cried Charlie, rebelliously. “Pretty girls have no business with them. Why can’t they leave them to ugly old women?” “Like myself, I suppose?” said Lady Haigh. “Thank you, Charlie--no, don’t apologise. Well, you see if Cecil believes that she has a mission to finish Azim Bey’s education, she will probably feel bound to continue it for the five years specified. If she thinks it her duty, I believe she will do it.” “So do I,” said Charlie, seriously. “I had rather not be weighed in the scale against Miss Anstruther’s duty. I’m afraid I should go to the wall. But five years, Cousin Elma! Do you know how old I shall be then?” “Nonsense!” cried Lady Haigh; “what’s five years at your time of life? It’s we old people who can’t spare it. Why, anything may happen in five years.” A good deal was to happen, more than either Charlie or Lady Haigh anticipated.