“If you wish to,” said Hilton carelessly.
The Inche Maida’s eyes flashed at his indifferent manner.
“If I were one of my women,” she said, “I could not tell you. If I were only my own simple woman-self I could not tell you for the shame that I should feel. But I am a chief, and as a chief I can speak. I have the right to choose whom I would have for partner of my life, and I have chosen you.”
“Chosen me?” cried Hilton, with a look of disgust at the tall, handsome woman before him.
“Yes; because I love you,” she replied. “He knows that I love you. I read it weeks ago in his eyes.”
“Have you been a partner to this accursed outrage, Chumbley?” cried Hilton fiercely.
“No, dear boy; not to, I’m a partner in it,” said Chumbley, coolly. “Wise question that of yours. Was it likely?”
“No,” said the Princess, “he did not know; but you were great friends and companions, and I brought you both. I love you.”
He looked at her indignantly.
“I like your friend,” she continued, turning and smiling at Chumbley, “he is so good-natured and big, and manly, and strong. I always feel as if he would be a man whom I could trust.”