“Not in racing,” the Doctor agreed, “but I expect he has an interest in enjoying himself generally, which is a thing you don't seem to have the most remote idea of. Here we are just getting up a sweepstake for the next race; hand over a rupee and try to get up an interest in it. Do try and forget your work till the race is over. I have brought you here to do you good. I regard you as my patient, and I give you my medical orders that you are to enjoy yourself.”
Bathurst laughed.
“I am enjoying myself in my way, Doctor.”
“Who is that very pretty woman standing up in the next carriage but one?” Isobel asked.
“She comes from an out station,” the Doctor repeated; “she is the wife of the Collector there, but I think she likes Cawnpore better than Boorgum; her name is Rose.”
“Is that her husband talking to her?”
“No; that is a man in the Artillery here, I think.”
“Yes,” the Major said, “that is Harrowby, a good looking fellow, and quite a ladies' man.”
“Do you mean a man ladies like, uncle, or who likes the society of ladies?”
“Both in his case, I should fancy,” the Major said; “I believe he is considered one of the best looking men in the service.”