"I will give him this message, and how he will hate me!"
"No, no, he likes you." A long pause, then with an abrupt change of tone, "And so Mrs. Waldershare is in Marwar?"
"Yes. She stayed for a few days with the Blaines, and now she has gone to the Imperial Hotel because she wishes to be independent."
"What is she like?"
"She is dazzlingly beautiful, with great dark eyes that seem to go right across her face."
"Yes, I hear she is very good-looking and alluring."
"And most fascinating; all the world admires her, and is making a fuss about her. We are giving a dinner for her to-morrow, and have asked the little baronet, and the Blaines, and Captain Hailes. Well, now, I must go; I hear Philip talking to your husband. What about to-morrow? When shall I see Mr. Lindsay? If he calls on me the servants will hear every word—our house is so open—there are twelve doors in the drawing-room. We might walk in the garden if it——"
"I'll tell you; drive down to the polo, and pick him up in your cart. I hate to ask you to do this for me—do you think your husband will mind?"
"Oh, no, Philip is never jealous, you know that—if the worst came to the worst, I'd tell him." Mrs. Gordon sat up and gasped. "Yes, I would, Elinor, and I warn you beforehand. But I hope there is no question of that. I will meet Mr. Lindsay to-morrow, give him your message, and tell him that he must go home, that if he stayed here for years he would not see you, or hear from you again. I shall be firm. There," and she kissed her companion's hand, "I must go."
The following afternoon Colonel Gascoigne returned home early, in order to take Angel for a ride; she looked wan and spiritless, like a flower that was drooping. He blamed himself for leaving her in that great empty bungalow; was it fair to her, to give up so much time to work, and leave her alone?