“Then perhaps you came across a Miss Paske, there? Though I don’t suppose she was in the Government House set. Her uncle is a nobody.” “To be sure. We know Miss Paske, don’t we, Mark? She was very much in the Government House set. All the A.D.C’s adored her. A little bit of a thing, with tow-coloured, fluffy hair, and a _nez retroussé_.” “I know nothing about her nose or hair, but she is at Shirani now.” “You don’t say so! I am delighted to hear it. She is capital fun!” Mrs. Brande’s face fell. She sat crumbling her bread for some seconds, and then said absently, “Did you notice those monkeys on the way up?” She had a peculiar habit of suddenly jumping from one topic to another, figuratively, at the opposite pole. She declared that her ideas travelled at times faster than her speech. Possibly she had her own consecutive, if rapid, train of thought, and may thus have connected Miss Paske with apes. “Yes, swarms of those old grey fellows with black faces. I suppose they have a fair club at Shirani, and keep up the whist-room? Are there many men who play?” “Only too many. I don’t approve of cards--at least gambling. I do love a game of whist--I play a half-anna stamp on the rubber, just to give it a little interest.” “Do they play high at Shirani?” he asked with a touch of impatience. “Yes, I believe they do; and that horrid old Colonel Sladen is the worst of all.” “What! is he still up here? he used to play a first-class rubber.” “He will play anything--high or low stakes--at either night or day--he pays--his wife pays,” concluded Mrs. Brande, looking quite ferocious. “Oh, is she out again? Nice little woman.” “Out _again_! She has never been home yet,” and she proceeded to detail that lady’s grievances, whilst her companion’s roving eyes settled on his cousin and Miss Gordon. She was a remarkable-looking, even fascinating girl, quite different to his impression of her at first sight. She had a radiant smile, wonderfully expressive eyes (those eyes alone made her beautiful, and lifted her completely out of the commonplace), and a high-bred air. Strange that she should be related to this vulgar old woman, and little did the vulgar old woman guess how she had been championed by her English niece. The moon shining full on the lake tempted the whole party out of doors. Captain Waring made a basely ungrateful (but wholly vain) attempt to exchange ladies with his friend. Mrs. Brande, however, loudly called upon him to attend her, as she paced slowly down to the road; and as he lit his cigar at his cousin’s, he muttered angrily under his moustache-- “I call _this_ beastly unfair. I had the old girl all dinner time. You’ve got six to four the best of it!” CHAPTER XV. A PROUD MOMENT.