"How does she happen to be out here?"
"I fancy she had a pretty dull time in England, and they do say, snatched at an invitation to Bombay, you know, one of those vague things, that mean nothing! She contrived to get a passage, and presented herself before the horrified people as a staying—not paying—guest! Naturally, they passed her on, and she has been passing on ever since, like the Queen in Old Maid," and unfeeling Mrs. Villars gave a low amused laugh.
"But why doesn't she go home?" enquired Mallender.
"For the simple reason that she has no money."
"Poor girl!" he muttered. "What an awful situation!"
"Yes, isn't it?" the lady assented. "I'm afraid she's a dreadful sponge, and not particularly interesting—let us talk of something else. Do you notice the man near the end, with the fine head and beard? He is Rolf, the celebrated artist, who has come out to paint the Rajah of Gondalcond, and various other native nobles."
"Yes, I think I've seen his pictures in the Academy."
"I wonder if you saw my picture there last year—painted by Le Grande?"
"No, I'm sure I did not," and he smiled significantly.
"Because you would remember it—oh, yes!" and she showed her pretty teeth.