British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
"Rather rough on him, when you come to think of it! But why on earth
didn't you wire to us before starting?"
"At first it simply didn't occur to me; and when it did, I had just
sense enough to know that you would probably wire back 'Don't come.'
And even _I_ could hardly have persisted in the face of that! So I
determined to take the small risk with the big one. Dak bungalows seem
to grow wild in India; and I thought there would surely be one here
where I could get some sort of a bed."
"Dak bungalow, indeed! If there is one, _I_ won't help you to find
it!" This from Honor, in a burst of righteous wrath. "So you may as
well resign yourself to staying with us, whether you like it or not!"
"With you? Is it possible? I thought . . . But have you really a
corner available? I could sleep divinely on the hearth-rug, I'm so
desperately tired, and so relieved."
"Very well. That settles it. But I'll let you off the hearth-rug,
even though you did fling Dak bungalows at my head! Captain Lenox is
in Baby's nursery; and we can shut off the dressing-room for you, if
you can manage with a chair-bed. It's quite safe. Everything has been
disinfected. I believe Theo knew you were coming! Will that do?"
"Do? _Ma foi_, . . but how does one say thank you for such goodness?"
"One refrains!" Desmond remarked, handing her empty cup across to his
wife.
Quita laughed.
"You are incorrigible!" said she. "But there is still this to think
of. With your friends coming and going, how am I to be . . accounted
for till I have seen . . Eldred? If I am Miss Maurice, _par exemple_,
what am I doing in Dera Ishmael? And if not . . ? _Mon Dieu_, but
it's an ignominious tangle. I'm as bad as Alice in Wonderland in the
wood. I seem suddenly to have lost my identity: and in my mad anxiety
and impatience to get here I never thought anything about it till I was
sweltering in that horrible barge this morning. Shall I live
altogether in my room? It would be no more than I deserve."
"My dear, you'll do nothing of the sort." It was Honor this time,
"Luckily for you, the Battery's in camp; and since Captain Lenox's
illness there's been an end of my tea-parties. Our own people may be
looking in now he's better. But for the next two days or so I shall
simply be '_dawazar bund_.'[5] It needs no effort to develop a
headache, or a touch of fever this weather. There's only Paul, and
Frank, whom I couldn't shut out. May we just explain to them, more or
less, how things stand?"
"But yes. Of course you must. And . . after all . . ."
She hesitated, flushing painfully.
"After all," Desmond came to her rescue, "it won't be so very long
before the vexed question of your identity is settled for good. Now
I'd better go and speak to Paul. He may be turning up for tea, any
minute; and that would be awkward for you."
As he reached the door at the far end of the room, Honor fled after him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account