"My sister, Mrs. Purcell, describes you as being like an Italian," she was saying; "and I quite agree with her--don't you, Mr. Mallow?"
"Certainly, Mr. Carson has the appearance of a Tuscan."
"My mother was Eurasian," explained the young man; "I am supposed to take after her. There is a great similarity between dark people, don't you think so? Yes?"
"Well, putting negroes out of the question, I suppose there is, more or less," assented Mallow. He thought Carson much more like the pure Italian than the Englishman of mixed blood. Certainly there was no hint of the Anglo-Saxon about him.
"So Mrs. Purcell has been giving you my character," said Carson, smiling blandly on Miss Slarge.
"Oh dear me, yes. She wrote me quite a long account of you--all about your looks, and conversation, and I don't know what else."
"Really? I feel flattered by the notice she has taken of me. I confess I should very much like to see that letter."
"If you like I will read you those parts of it which refer to you," said Miss Slarge, amiably. "You will see then how keen an observer my sister is. Excuse me, I will fetch the letter."
As Miss Slarge slipped out of the room on her errand, Mallow detected a sigh from Carson--a sigh that sounded like one of relief. At the same time he appeared--so Mallow thought--to be uneasy, and while continuing his conversation he frequently glanced at the Major. Semberry instinctively became aware of this, and once or twice turned his head. Finally he left Miss Ostergaard, and came slowly across the room, as though drawn in spite of himself to the side of his friend. Again Mallow heard from Carson a sigh of relief, after which his uneasiness gave place to a more confident manner, and he presented Major Semberry to Laurence with perfect ease.
"We need no introduction," said Mallow, smiling. "Major Semberry and I met at Simla some few months back.