“How extraordinary! That is where Ronnie is quartered.”
“Then he is in the Service?”
“Yes, the ‘Lighthearts,’ and has just got his company. He came to see me last September, when he was home on leave. He was not favourably impressed by Beke, and suggested my going to India as a paying guest with nice people. There are only the two of us, and at least we should be in the same country. He wrote to Uncle Horace on the subject, but nothing happened.”
“The squire is your uncle?”
“Yes; my father was his only brother.”
Captain Falkland stared into his teacup, as if he saw something there of engrossing interest, then raising his eyes to mine, he said:
“I see; and so you have been released from Beke, and have come to live here? Are the Lingards your nearest relations?”
“My only ones, except Ronnie—and he is much more than a mere relation.” I cannot imagine what folly possessed me, but I added, “He is very popular here—but I am not.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed my companion with ready politeness, “How could that be?”
“Oh, it’s a long story—much too long.”