“To think of his being the husband of such a woman as Mrs. Sladen! Oh, I detest him! Imagine his having the insolence to make out that every girl who comes to India is nothing but a scheming, mercenary, fortune-hunter! I am glad he pointed out all the rich men!”
“May I ask why?” inquired her somewhat startled companion.
“Because, of course, I shall take the greatest possible care never to know one of them.”
“So poverty, for once, will have its innings? You will not taboo the younger sons?”
“No; only good matches and great catches,” with vicious emphasis. “Hateful expressions! Mr. Jervis, I give you fair warning that, if you were rich, I would never speak to you again. You are laughing!”
He certainly was laughing. As he leant his head down on his arms, his shoulders shook unmistakably.
“Perhaps,” in an icy tone, “when your amusement has subsided, you will be good enough to take me back to my aunt!”
“Oh, Miss Gordon!” suddenly straightening himself, and confronting her with a pair of suspiciously moist eyes, “I must have seemed extremely rude, and I humbly beg your pardon. I was laughing at—at my own thoughts, and your wrathful indignation was such that—that——”
“You had better not say any more,” she interrupted; “you will only make matters worse.” Then added with a dawning smile, “It is what I always do myself. I speak from experience.”
“Promise me one thing,” he urged—“that you will not drop me when you are weeding out your acquaintance.”