CHAPTER XXVI
In the meanwhile Dominga and Captain Fielder lounged on a bench—conspicuously aloof from the crowd. A somewhat constrained silence had fallen between them; he was wondering if this handsome girl, with talking eyes and vivid expression, was "good fun"? She was meditating as to whether she might treat him as just a common, every-day officer, or not? Dom had finally made up her mind—as she looked up quickly and met his full, bold stare, a stare so prolonged and searching that another girl would have felt affronted and abashed; not so Dominga.
"Well?" she asked, raising her eyebrows interrogatively. "Now, tell me candidly, what do you think of them?"
"Er—think of what?" he stammered, obviously a little startled.
"My eyes—what else?" said the girl, with disconcerting bravado.
"Oh—by Jove! they are splendid. Er—I was not quite sure of the colour five minutes ago. I'd have sworn they were black; now I see they are greenish brown——"
"And in another five minutes they may be a greyish blue—one thing I can promise, they are never red."
"Do you never cry? Oh, come now! Every woman cries."
"Pray, why should I cry?" she asked, with a touch of defiance.
"But you must have some sort of escape for your feelings?"
"Not necessarily. I have no feelings."
"Then you are one of the sights of India! What more uncommon than a woman who has eyes like a chameleon, who never cries, and has no feelings? You are a marvel, Miss Chandos!"
"But I am not really Miss Chandos. I am only number four, and I am called Dominga."
"Good heavens—what a name! Where did they find it?"
"In foreign parts. My grandfather—was Portuguese."
"Have you no pet name—at home?"
"They call me 'Dom'—when we are by ourselves."
"Er—may I call you 'Dom'—when we are by ourselves?" As he spoke Captain Fielder hitched himself an inch nearer and assumed his most insinuating expression.
"This seat is intended for two," she remarked, giving him a little tap with her parasol. "If you want the whole of it, please say so. As to calling me 'Dom,'—we shall never be by ourselves again——"
"Pray why not? Don't you like me?" he asked pathetically.
"Because," ignoring the second question, "I am not in society."
"Then I am sorry for society. Why do you call yourself an outsider?"
"We are—only the sugar people!"
"Er-r, now I understand my sensations, the instant I saw you; you looked too sweet for words!"
"Don't be silly, and please don't run away with the idea that I am either soft or sweet. I leave that sort of thing to Pussy and Verona."
"Verona, is a town—Dominga, I think, is an island; Has your mother a craze for geography?"
"Verona's name is really Veronica."
"Why have you such—curious names?"
"Can't you guess?" she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes.
Her companion shook his head in hopeless ignorance.
"Then I will tell you, and when you know us better you will see how well our names fit! We are called after two saints!"
Captain Fielder's broad grin and incredulous wink went a long way in advancing his intimacy with this lively companion.
"Now, tell me, why are you so down on yourself? It's a mistake—you should leave that sort of thing to other people—they do it so much better. You said you were not sweet, and that you have no feelings. I am sure you were wrong."
"No——"
"Er—well, I won't take your word for it; I mean to find out for myself."
"You will not have the opportunity. After to-day the station ladies—who are very jealous of me——"
"By Jove, I don't wonder at that!" he interpolated with decision.
"Will fence you in—with barbed wire!"
"Oh—will they?" with a derisive laugh. "It is not very easy to keep Jimmy Fielder in bounds! Ask papa?"
"See—they are all staring over here now," and she pointed with her parasol. "They are ready to tear my eyes out."
"I'll take care of your beautiful and matchless eyes. You just leave them to me."
"I can take pretty good care of myself, thank you. What do you think of Rajahpore, Captain Fielder?"
"I adore it already."
"What a ridiculous answer. Why?"
"Because it has made me acquainted with you."
"How can you be so silly?"
"I was born so. Tell me, how do you put in your time here?"
"Oh—I sing a good deal, I have a wonderful voice—and I bicycle, and—I read—and play tennis."
"Can you read—French?"
"Why, of course."
"Then I can lend you some ripping novels!"
"No, thank you," rather stiffly; assume a virtue if you have it not. Dom had once laboured through a few French exercises, and could no more read a page than ride a steeplechase.
But Jimmy was promptly taken in, and impressed.
"Proper, good little girl! Well, I must confess—some of them—are—a bit—strong."
"You would not lend them to your sisters, I presume?" adopting her well-known quarrelsome attitude, "though you offer them to me."
"Oh, I've no sisters, thank the Lord! As to offering the books—you might have jumped at them. I did not know what sort you were. You see, a fellow never can tell——"
"I see Verona looking this way. She is coming to fetch me——"
"Er—is she your keeper? Has she got you on the chain?"
"No; I should pity her if she had!"
"Then you and I are in sympathy—a pair of bold, independent spirits. When shall I see you again—Dom?"
"Perhaps to-morrow at the Club."
"Oh, so you come to the Club. Hurrah!"
"Yes, for books and tennis; but we are complete outsiders, as you will soon discover."
"You will never be an outsider to me, Dom—already you have your place——"
"What do you mean?" she demanded. "What place?"
"Only the box seat in my heart."
"Heart!" she repeated with a scornful laugh. "No one talks of hearts in these days—except the heroes of stories in penny magazines."
As she spoke Dominga rose, and drew herself to her full height. She was two inches taller than Jimmy, who gazed at her in profound admiration. Yes; already he was caught and enthralled by her audacity and insolence, and entangled in the meshes of her splendid burnished hair.
"Dom," said Verona as she joined her, "it is past six o'clock, and we must be going home."
"Very well," assented Dominga, "I am ready." But she did not attempt to make her sister and "Jimmy" known to one another. No, she would not share the captive of her bow and spear—that is to say, eye and tongue—she was determined to keep him exclusively to herself. (Dom knew what girls did, being a most daring and successful poacher!)
Jimmy stared at this Miss Chandos, who looked and spoke like a well-bred English lady, and yet was Dominga's own sister. What did it mean? Dom, with all her charm, spoke with a quaint, half-foreign accent, and her manners decidedly lacked the repose which stamped the caste of Vere de Vere, whilst Verona—the other girl, "the slow one," as he already classed her, was Vere de Vere—and no mistake!
As Dominga crossed the polo ground attended by her new slave, she tossed her head and flounced her skirts, and glared at spectators as much as to say, "Don't you wish you were in my shoes?" When she stepped into the victoria she leant forward, and smiled with cruel exultation at the Watkins and the Trotters—they could not fail to have seen "the Honourable" tucking the dust cover over her knees. They knew that she had got into society at last!
As Dominga was driven homewards her body was unquestionably in the shabby victoria, but her mind was in the seventh heaven!
"He" had chosen her out from among all the women in the station. "He" had called her "Dom," and, at parting, had given her fingers a fierce, emphatic squeeze, from the effects of which they were still tingling!