"I'm on my way back to India, worse luck, and sail from Marseilles in ten days."
"Ah, so you don't like the East?"
"No, I suppose because I'm nailed out there by duty. Just as you are held fast by the dog. Of course, it's the best country for soldiering—lots of room to manœuvre and turn round."
"I've always cherished a wild wish to see India," she said. "Auntie lived there for years, but she abhors it, and has not one single good word for the country. Other people rave in its praise. What do you say, Captain Haig—speaking unofficially?"
"Well"—and he took a long breath—"I admit that, like the curate's egg, parts of it are good. But where I am stationed it is all cotton soil, sugar cane, and sun."
"No antiquities?"
"Nothing more venerable than the oldest resident! Of course, your aunt was born out there?" he rashly ventured, then could have bitten his tongue in two. He glanced at his companion, but she appeared to be serenely unconscious of any faux pas, the exquisite pink in her fair cheek had not deepened in shade, as she answered with an air of cool reflection.
"I'm not sure. I don't think so. But I know that she was married out there!"
"Ah!" he ejaculated, "then, perhaps, that is why she dislikes the country?"
Miss Chandos gave him a quick look and made no reply. Captain Haig again regretted having spoken unadvisedly, and on this occasion he felt distinctly snubbed.