On hearing this solemn explanation Sophy burst into peals of laughter, at which rejoinder Mrs. Krauss looked both shocked and hurt and, after an awkward silence, the subject dropped.
And so, in spite of Sophy’s efforts to remain in Rangoon, she was figuratively driven into the arms of Mrs. Gregory. The Maitlands and the Pomeroys had also invited her to May Myo, but Mrs. Gregory overbore all competition and insisted that she must have Sophy as a companion to share her bungalow and accompany her songs, and departed in triumph, carrying the girl with her.
Mrs. Krauss attended her niece to the railway station, loaded her with books and fruit and saw her off with urgent and affectionate injunctions and many kisses. During the last few months Mrs. Krauss appeared to have become a transformed person; she went about continually in her smart new car, was seen at dances, little dinners and the theatre, and had recovered a faint shadow of her former good looks and something of her old animation.
Herr Krauss naturally attributed this change to her niece, and showed his gratitude to Sophy in various abrupt ways, suffering her to mix with the English society without sneers or interference. Sophy did not now see so much of the German community; she was aware that Mrs. Muller and others no longer approved of her, and Frau Wurm had said openly, “that although the girl had done her best to learn how to keep a house, her heart had never been in the business and she was not schwärmerisch to German people or German ways!”
Whilst Sophy Leigh had been enjoying herself at May Myo, among the green hills and soft airs of Upper Burma, Shafto, in the oppressive sultry heat, had had some pleasant and unpleasant experiences.
The pleasant experience was that his salary had been raised. Now he could afford to buy another horse and keep a tum-tum; with a heavier purse he was able to send home some well-chosen and handsome presents—a China crêpe shawl for Mrs. Malone, ivory carvings to the Tebbs, an Indian chuddah to his aunt and a heavy gold bangle for each of the girls. Unfortunately one gift to “Monte Carlo” had a dire and unexpected result—it brought him a deluge of letters from Cossie, who was rapturous over his promotion and “his beautiful, exquisite, darling gift,” which she wore on her arm day and night!
“I felt sure you had not forgotten me,” was her ominous opening; “you could not; there is a secret telepathy between us, and I am always thinking of you, dear old boy.”
Several mails later there arrived a letter from Sandy, the contents of which almost made his cousin’s hair stand on end. After one or two preliminary sentences, Shafto’s eyes fell upon these lines:
“By this you will have heard that our Cossie will be afloat; she has been very restless and unsettled for a long time—almost ever since you left; nothing seems to please her. First she took up nursing and soon dropped that; then she took up typing and soon dropped that. At last she has got the wish of her life, which is to go abroad. She has answered an advertisement and secured a top-hole situation, as lady nurse in Rangoon. She starts in ten days in the ship that took you out—the Blankshire, and is so busy and excited that she is nearly off her nut.”