“Oh, no,” he rejoined, “I am going into the Diplomatic Service”; which was the first that anyone had heard of it!
It transpired that the couple were spending a whole week at the Dower House ere returning to India in a month’s time, and presently I screwed up my courage and ventured to ask her how she liked the East.
“Oh it’s all right, as long as one is young,” she answered in a deep, rather vibrant voice, looking at me steadily with her marvellous dark eyes. “We have always been in the Punjaub, but this time we are bound for the Deccan. Herbert has been given a very good appointment there. It will be an entirely new country.”
Before the little party took leave, my aunt, much to my astonishment, invited them to dinner, for as a rule she never extended hospitality to the Dower House guests.
No sooner had they left us than a chorus of remarks arose, all in praise of Mrs. Hayes-Billington. Bev was particularly loud and eloquent. His mother and sister agreed that she was handsome, smart, and not in the least the usual type of officer’s wife that drifted home from India, washed out, flabby and dowdy.
Mrs. Hayes-Billington’s appearance of an evening was positively dazzling; in fact, I may say that the effect of her beauty on a country cousin like myself was almost overwhelming. She wore a rose-coloured gown, very décolletée, a diamond bandeau in her dark wavy hair, and was undoubtedly the queen of the company. What was Aunt Mina in dark green velvet? What was I, in my new white crêpe de Chine? Merely the background of an exquisite picture.
We were a party of twelve; four from the Dower House, five of ourselves, the rector and his wife (she was a bishop’s daughter) and young Tom Champneys, a neighbour. Uncle took in Mrs. Hayes-Billington, who sat between him and Bev. I came next to Bev, with Captain Paget-Taylor on my left hand. At the head of the table Aunt Mina was supported by Captain Hayes-Billington and the rector. Mrs. Hayes-Billington talked away with great animation to my uncle. She discoursed of pig-sticking, jackal hunting, and racing, and asked many questions about our local pack; but somehow I received an impression that she and my uncle did not hit it off. It struck me that my usually voluble relation was somewhat reserved in his manner, though always the polite and attentive host. Occasionally she addressed herself to Bev, and found him eagerly responsive.
From the other end of the table I could hear Captain Hayes-Billington relating experiences and stories to Aunt Mina and the rector in a loud, jovial voice. I caught one or two stories—chestnuts, no doubt—with regard to a certain class called “Baboos.” One of them had announced that “the army was a glorious profession in time of peace, but in time of war highly dangerous.” Another, who had given his seat to a lady, on her saying she was sorry to deprive him of it, replied, “No depravity, madam!” The raconteur laughed so uproariously at his own anecdotes that his hearers were compelled to join—even my aunt accorded a fixed smile.
Young Champneys, who sat opposite, suddenly addressed Captain Paget-Taylor across the table, and said:
“Last time I was in town I saw Falkland at the club. He was just starting for India. He seemed a bit bothered by a dog he had with him. He told me it had been given to him by a girl.”