"What do you think of the place?" softly enquired Blanche, whose brown velvet eyes had never been removed from the stranger.
"He has not seen it yet!" rejoined Mrs. Beamish, who had just bustled in, found a seat, and was being pressed to partake of her own good things by Captain Beaufort, "and I'm afraid there is very little to see."
"I hear you take photographs," said Tara. "I do wish, you would do my horse Rustum, he is such a beauty."
"The General got him down from Bombay," announced Captain Beaufort, "a Damascus Arab, out of Abdul Rayman's stables. They wanted him for racing, and so I need not tell you his price was pretty stiff!"
"Tara is crazy about him," supplemented her sister. "As for me, I do not ride."
"Only your hobby, buff cochins!" put in her brother.
"Now do be quiet, Tom; you are too silly!"
"The General has a stable full of splendid animals," continued Beaufort, who evidently desired to impress the visitor. "He was a fine rider once, so was I," and he gave a laugh that shook not only his whole frame—but also the table. "Who'd think it!"
"You come from Madras, I believe?" murmured Blanche; who was irresistibly fascinated by this stranger, who had dropped into their circle, as from the skies.
"Yes, I arrived yesterday evening."