Mrs. Cary's eyes sank beneath the direct gaze, and she began to play with the rings that adorned her fat fingers. "I'm afraid you'll be angry," she said. "If it wasn't for my duty as a mother, I should let you go your own way--as it is, I must just risk it." "There is no risk," Beatrice returned gravely. "Where duty is concerned, I am all consideration." "It's about your intimacy with His Highness," Mrs. Cary went on. "I can't help thinking it has gone too far." "In what way?" "You ride out with him every morning." "You said nothing a month ago--when I went out for the first time." "It was the first time. And I didn't know people would talk." "Do they talk?" "Yes. Mrs. Berry told me only this afternoon that she thought it most _infra dig_. She told me as a friend--" Beatrice laughed. "Mrs. Berry as a friend is a new departure." "Never mind. There was something in what she said. She told me it spoiled your chances--with others." "I dare say she told you that it is very immoral for me to ride out with Captain Stafford?" Mrs. Cary threw up her head. "I don't take any notice of that sort of thing. That is only her cattishness, because she wants Stafford for Maud." "You don't mind about Captain Stafford, then?" "Goodness, no! Why should I? A man wants to know a girl before--well, before he asks her. I don't see anything in that. But this business with the Rajah is quite different. Of course, I know you are only amusing yourself, but still it lowers your value to be seen so much with a colored man." "Why should you mind? Surely you can see for yourself that Captain Stafford is to all intents and purposes engaged to Lois?" "Rubbish! She thinks so, but it's a lukewarm business which could easily be brought to nothing--if you tried. And besides, I don't want you talked about. We have been talked about quite enough." "Why should people talk?" exclaimed Beatrice, with a sudden change in tone. "What harm do I do? What do they suppose goes on between us?" Mrs. Cary shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sure I don't know," she said indifferently. Beatrice sat back in her chair, for a moment silent. A faint smile moved the corners of her fine mouth. "I fancy our conversation, if they heard it, would startle the unbearable Marut scandal-mongers," she said. "What do you say to a Bible-class on horseback?" Mrs. Cary's small round eyes opened wide. "A Bible-class?" she repeated suspiciously. Beatrice nodded. "Yes. I have been teaching him the rudiments of Christianity. It seems you must have neglected my education in that respect, for I have had to burn a good deal of midnight oil to keep pace with the demand upon my knowledge. I tell him it as a story, and he reads it himself afterward. We are halfway through St. John. What are you laughing at?" The tone of intense irritation pulled Mrs. Cary up short in the midst of a loud fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, my dear," she apologized, "but you really must admit it's rather funny."