“You may go, Ranjab,” he said slowly.
“Ten minutes he asks for, sahib, that is all.” The curtains fell behind him once more.
“So that he may not forget!” fell from Brood's lips. He was looking at the girl, but did not address his words to her. “So that he may not forget! So that I, too, may not forget!”
Suddenly he arose and confronted the serene image of the Buddha. For a full minute he stood there with his hands clasped, his lips moving as if in prayer. No sound came from them.
The girl remained transfixed, powerless to move. Not until he turned toward her and spoke was the spell broken. Then she came quickly to his side. He had pronounced her name.
“You are about to tell me something, Mr Brood,” she cried in great agitation. “I do not care to listen. I feel that it is something I should not know. Please let me go now. I———”
He laid his hands upon her shoulders, holding her off at arm's length.
“I am very fond of you, Lydia. I do not want to hurt you. Sooner would I have my tongue cut out than it should wound you by a single word. Yet I must speak. You love Frederic. Is not that true?”
She returned his gaze unwaveringly. Her face was very white.
“Yes, Mr Brood.”