“‘This rag?’ The ‘rag’ was gold-colored, as she was, and her laugh clinked like gold. ‘I shall give it to the stewardess if she is half decent to me. We shall have to stop in Paris on the way back. I haven’t had so much as a new _sarong_ since we left America. My clothes are faded, tattered, fly-blown, tarnished with the sea.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Is it really so long since you’ve seen a well-dressed woman? Surely in India--’ That was the best she could do for badinage, and she looked uneasily towards the door as she spoke. “Suddenly Dorrien appeared in the door. She was silent through our greetings, though I thought she watched him. Whatever it was would break before morning, if it wasn’t already at that instant giving way. They hadn’t many hours’ grace, those two. Why the devil hadn’t I stayed in some undiscoverable, soaking little basket-hovel in the nearest village until the next morning? I didn’t know the people, I didn’t like them; but both of them would cling to me because I was white and because they couldn’t agree about anything in the world. I’ve always wished I had stayed away twenty-four hours more, that time--always. There was no reason under high heaven why I should be in it. And they were nice people, mind you; and neither one of them meant to be a cad. Why, there was nothing either one of them wanted that wasn’t perfectly decent and desirable in itself. They only wanted different things for each other, with the best conscience in the world. And people go on marrying, every day! “‘I hear you’re going, Dorrien.’ There was no use in trying to be irrelevant. They would have turned any remark into a comment on themselves. “‘Did Agatha tell you so?’ “‘Yes. And D’Acunha mentioned it when I got in.’ “‘There’s a P. & O. boat from Singapore next week Thursday.’ She looked straight at him. “‘There’s a Royal Dutch Mail from Batavia next week Saturday,’ he flung back. “She drew a scarf round her shoulders, despite the steaming heat. ‘Who wants to go to Rotterdam? If we’re going, let’s go sanely.’ “‘We can’t go sanely.’ And Dorrien was white beneath his sunburn as he said it. “Some other people came in, and I didn’t scruple to talk to them. If the Dorriens were going to break, I, out of sheer patriotism, didn’t want them to break before a public like that. Perhaps I still had some hope of getting away. I’ve forgotten about that, but it seems reasonable. I do remember that I staved it off until after dinner. But they didn’t let me alone. They wanted a referee, I imagine; some one who would keep them from screaming insults at each other, or decide between them when they did.