"I understand, and sympathise with your feelings respecting Mrs. Fiske—I am with you there! She says such spiteful things to my face, that they leave me beyond the power of a coherent retort. But why do you say that Barbie dislikes you?"
"Because lately, she won't speak to me."
"Imagination! She has been flung so violently at men's heads, that naturally she avoids them, for which, I confess I do not blame her;—among women, she is different."
"And once upon a time she was different with me!—we were quite chummy out hunting, or paper-chasing—she's a nailing good rider,—one day, she got a nasty toss, and I took her home,—Lord, what a place!"
"I can imagine it."
"I doubt it! We found lots to say to one another, as we toiled along to Vepery, afterwards too—at chota-hazri's, at the gardens; then all of a sudden, the young lady dropped me like the traditional hot potato!"
Mrs. Brander burst into a ringing laugh, and again repeated, "Imagination!"
"No," he replied with some heat. "The last couple of weeks, Miss Miller avoided me on purpose,—you remember the finish at the paper-chase at the Mount, and breakfast at the Artillery Mess, under the banyan tree? When I spoke to her there, she just looked me straight between the eyes, and administered the dead cut."
"I must say you amaze me! I can only suppose, that Mrs. Fiske has given you a bad character."
"She knows nothing about me!"