But Nancy Brander touched her horse, and cantered on; she was not disposed to tell tales, or to reply.
"Merely because she showed me a bill from a Paris house, for nine hundred pounds, and assured me, that she had no more idea than my Mab, how it was going to be paid! or where the money was to come from!"
By eleven o'clock the equestrians had arrived at Under Cliff Hotel, Coonoor, and there found the remainder of the party, all comfortably installed, sitting in the verandah, imbibing draughts of deliciously cool air, and looking forward to a late, and solid, breakfast. The early afternoon was abandoned to resting, unpacking, and novel-reading, but about four o'clock the Tallboys and their guests reassembled for tea.
Not a few acquaintances were "up," and passing through,—these included Colonel Molyneux and Forbes, the great shikari. Mrs. Villars, who had changed her travelling dress for a becoming toilet, was talking to them, when Mallender joined her. She gave him a radiant smile—her smile conveyed to many, the secret, that "you, and you only, are my friend"; undoubtedly she had a wonderful charm—which is another name for power—and in her delicate hand, it frequently proved an irresistible weapon. At the moment, she was carrying on a bantering conversation with the mighty hunter.
"You know perfectly well, that you hate all this," she said, indicating the smart gay groups, who were scattered along the verandah, drinking tea. "You prefer black coffee, and leathery chuppatties in the jungle, you know you do!"
"Yes, I must confess that I enjoy the jungle," admitted Mr. Forbes, who found it not unpleasant to be chaffed, and singled out, by this beautiful creature in white serge, with the eyes of a fawn, and the sun throwing glints on her wealth of red-brown hair. "But then, I'm a semi-savage—and an old bachelor," he added boastfully.
"Worse—a woman-hater!"
"No, no, Mrs. Villars, but I admit that I would as soon look at a fine pair of horns, as at a fine pair of eyes," and his glance was almost a challenge!
"Really?" with a gay incredulous laugh. "What an odd taste! The only horn that appeals to me, is a coach horn. Are you making any stay?"
"No, a couple of days, and then I'm off to the Anna-Mullays after a bison. When I was at home, I got a letter from an old pal of mine, a Kurumba shikari, and he told me of a remarkable, in fact, matchless head."