Captain Calvert still lingered in these "Capuan" quarters. One morning, he and Mayne awaited their hostess in the verandah, where breakfast was served; she was an hour late, and Captain Calvert's sharp appetite had undoubtedly affected his temper. After one or two nasty speeches about "damned lazy women," and "rotten arrangements," his remarks became more personal, and he twitted his companion with his mad craze for shikar.
"Upon my soul, I believe you'd go anywhere, even among half-castes and natives, if they were to promise you an extra good bag."
"Perhaps I would—in fact, I'm sure I would," admitted Mayne. "By the way, apropos of natives and shooting—what about your shoot up North? I heard you talking to a Nawab coming out on the Medina, and you put in pretty strongly for an invite."
"Yes—did I?" drawled Calvert, lifting his thin black eyebrows, "I forget—I believe. I—er—wanted to have a look at the country."
"So it did not come off, eh?"
"No, as well as I remember, there was some hitch about dates. Talking of dates," he went on, with a significant glance, "are you putting in all your leave at Fairplains?"
"I hope so," was the bold rejoinder, "I shall be jolly sorry when it comes to my last week!"
"Ah! Well, yes, the little red-haired girl is not half bad fun,—brown as a coolie, but what delicious feet, and ankles! If she were to sit reversed, with her feet above the table—I see," catching Mayne's furious glance. "Well then, I'll give you another picture. Some day, Miss Nancy will be a handsome woman,—though she's more of a boy, and a tomboy now. She has odd flashes—that set one wondering, and I bet you, will give her husband a lot of surprises!"
"That'll do!—don't let us discuss her any further!" exclaimed Mayne impatiently.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Calvert with a loud laugh, "I apologize! Upon my soul I'd no idea——"