“Oh, I don’t want no thanks for what has been a real pleasure. Haven’t I seen with me own two eyes all the terrible harm this drug-takin’ leads to? And if I’ve been in a small way the means of puttin’ a stop to some of it, I’ll be a proud man.” He paused to clear his throat, and continued: “I suppose, you have not seen anything of Ma Chit lately?”
“No.”
“She keeps you from goin’ to the Salters, doesn’t she? She’s always sittin’ about there on the steps, heart-broken, because she can’t get a word wid ye! Of course, I’m not surprised she’s took a fancy to ye.”
“Fancy! Rot!” burst out Shafto. “I can’t stand these cheeky Burmese girls. I only hope I may never set eyes on Ma Chit again.”
“Well, then, as likely as not ye won’t,” remarked Mung Baw soothingly. “She has a rich relation up at Thayetmyo, and she’s swithering between love and money. Perhaps, after all, money will carry the day. Well, now, I must be goin’ to me duties—and me devotions, and I’ll bid ye good evening.”
The conversation at “Heidelberg” interrupted by Lily had been resumed on a suitable occasion in the gardens of the “Barn,” and Sophy and Shafto were now provisionally engaged.
“I’m a wretched match for you, Sophy,” he declared; “I don’t believe your mother will allow it. I’ve no prospects.”
“Never mind prospects,” was her reckless reply. “We shall have enough to live on. I have a hundred a year of my own, and I’m quite a good manager, with a real taste for millinery. If the worst comes to the worst, I shall open a shop in Phayre Street and make our fortune!”
It was mail day and Shafto, who now dined at the “Barn,” was unusually late in appearing. He looked rather excited and out of himself as he entered with many apologies. After dinner he and Sophy paced the drive in the silver moonlight, and she began: