"At first, I was afraid ... I did not try to find you." "You were well-advised." "Who is 'at sahib?" little Fay interrupted impatiently. "Let us go home." She had no use for any sahib who ignored her presence. "Yes, we'd better be getting on," Meg said hurriedly, and seized the handle of the pram. But he stood right in their path. "You were very cruel," the musical voice went on. "You never seemed to give a thought to all _I_ was suffering." Meg met the sleepy eyes, that used to thrill her very soul, with a look of scornful amusement in hers that was certainly the very last expression he had ever expected to see in them. She had always dreaded this moment. Realising the power this man had exercised over her, she always feared that should she meet him again the old glamour would surround him; the old domination be reasserted. She forgot that in five years one's standards change. Now that she did meet him she discovered that he held no bonds with which to bind her. That what she had dreaded was a chimera. The real Walter Brooke, the moment he appeared in the flesh, destroyed the image memory had set up; and Meg straightened her slender shoulders as though a heavy burden had dropped from them. The whole thing passed like a flash. "You were very cruel," he repeated. "There is no use going into all that," Meg answered in a cheerful, matter-of-fact tone. "Good-bye, Mr. Brooke. We are most grateful to you for not running over William, who is," here she raised her voice for the benefit of the culprit, "a naughty--tiresome dog." "But you can't leave me like this. When can I see you again--there is so much I want to explain...." "But I don't want any explanations, thank you. Come children, we _must_ go." "Meg, listen ... surely you have some little feeling of kindness towards me ... after all that happened...." He put his hand on Meg's arm to detain her, and William, who had never been known to show enmity to human creature, gave a deep growl and bristled. A growl so ominous and threatening that Meg hastily loosed the pram and caught him by the collar with both hands. Tony saw that Meg was flustered and uncomfortable. "Why does he not go?" he asked. "I thought he was a sahib, but I suppose he is the gharri-wallah. We have thanked him--does he want backsheesh? Give him a rupee." "He _does_ want backsheesh," the deep, musical voice went on--"a little pity, a little common kindness." It was an embarrassing situation. William was straining at his collar and growling like an incipient thunderstorm. "We have thanked you," Tony said again with dignity. "We have no money, or we would reward you. If you like to call at the house, Auntie Jan always has money." The man smiled pleasantly at Tony. "Thank you, young man. You have told me exactly what I wanted to know. So you are with your friends?" "I can't hold this dog much longer," Meg gasped. "If you don't go--you'll get bitten."