And Nick laughed, and after a long draught of whisky and soda observed that possibly they were more primitive than she imagined. After which he stretched himself luxuriously, and asked her if she were aware that they were within a week of Christmas Day.
"Of course," she said. "Did you imagine I had forgotten? It seems so strange to have nothing to do."
He sat up very abruptly with his knees drawn up to his chin and blinked at her with extreme rapidity. "Olga," he said, "I believe you're homesick."
The colour that of old had been so quick to rise faintly tinged her face as she shook her head. "Oh, no, Nick! Don't be absurd! How could I be, with you?"
"I'm not absurd—on this occasion," returned Nick.
"It's the fashion for absentees to be homesick all the world over at Christmas-time. However, we are not bound to follow the fashion. How are we going to celebrate the occasion? Have you any ideas to put forward?"
"None, Nick."
He nodded. "That makes it all the easier for me. Shall we give a picnic at Khantali—you and I? It won't be much fag for you if you drive over with Daisy Musgrave. Noel can take most of the provisions in his dog-cart. He's a useful youngster. How does that strike you? There is a ruined temple or a mosque at Khantali, I believe, and you like that sort of thing."
He paused. She was listening with far-away eyes. "Yes, I shall like that," she said. "It is very nice of you to think of it."
Nick straightened his knees and got up. "Do you know what I would do if
I had two hands, Olga mia?" he said.