“Yes, but that’s a different affair. He is one of our own race; and, if it comes to obligations, I have borrowed a sov. from Baker before now! These Levantines are different; so emotional and sensitive, and childishly thin-skinned. With them you are either black or white. I prefer to be on good terms with Balthasar. He works many strings in the financial world—half the people here run after him——”
“And the other half run away from him,” I supplemented.
“Well, anyhow, he gets stacks of invitations; he is our local Rothschild, and quite an ami de la maison at the Residency.”
“I can hardly believe that,” I said rudely; “and anyway, he is not, you will admit, what we would call a white man.”
“I can tell you this, Sis, that his face was grey with rage when he was talking to me this evening. Look here,” and Ronnie rose and stood before me with his hands in his pockets, “you will have to patch up a truce with old Balthasar, and I will bear the olive-branch. We can ask him up to lunch or dinner to soothe his wounded feelings, and you must put your fastidiousness in your pocket and assume a virtue if you have it not! I say, I don’t often ask you to do something—but I do beg of you to oblige me in this one thing, as a great favour.”
His expression was so grave and anxious that I could not but yield.
“All right, Ronnie, you know I never can refuse you anything. I will do my best to smother my feelings and, much as I loathe him, be civil to Balthasar in order to please you.”
Then Ronnie kissed me warmly, and said:
“That’s a good old girl! I dare say he rubbed you the wrong way. He’s not a bad sort, I assure you, and rather a friend of mine. Now, I’ll tell you of a friend of yours who always rubs me the wrong way—it’s that fellow Falkland! I can’t stand his slow, deliberate manner. Of course the women here have spoiled him and run after him because he’ll have a title some day; and he’s such a strait-laced beggar, thinks gambling is wrong, at least for anything more than eight annas a hundred at bridge. He doesn’t bet, and he scowls if you tell him a sultry story; and this comes well from a fellow who is in the fastest cavalry regiment in India!”
“I don’t agree with you about Captain Falkland,” was my bold reply. “I’m sure he’s not a bit of a prig, and I think he’s right about betting, when many of the young fellows here have no money to spare. However, you keep your friend and I’ll keep mine.”