“Oh, just the same as always,” Muriel answered. “I don’t seem to see much of him.”
“People say he’s rather a success at running this ’ere country,” the other remarked. “Personally, I detest the man: I think he’s neglected you shamefully all your life.”
“Oh, father’s all right,” said Muriel. “I’m very fond of him.”
“Rot!” muttered her friend.
For some time they exchanged their news, and Muriel gave some account of the quiet life she had spent since her arrival.
“Any decent men?” Mrs. Bindane asked. “What about little Rupert Helsingham?”
“Oh, d’you know him?”
“Lord! yes. He stayed with us once when he and I were kiddies. I saw him when he was on leave last summer: he’s grown into a handsome little fellow.”
She asked if he were on the premises, and whether she might see him. In reply, Muriel rang the bell, and sent a message to the office where Rupert usually spent his mornings in interviewing native dignitaries.
“Here’s a friend of yours,” she said to him as he came into the room, and there ensued a rapid exchange of merry greetings.