“No!” she said, fiercely.
“Yes; for your own sake.”
“No,” she cried, “leave me.”
“I promise you,” he continued, “that I will do all I can to hush the matter up. You will be reasonable. I should not like to see so brave and good a woman come to grief.”
“Go! Leave me!” she cried, fiercely. “I will not listen. I am a Malay Princess, and he has insulted and wronged me.”
“Well: there,” said Chumbley. “I’m going. Good-night.”
He held out his broad white hand, but the Inche Maida raised hers and struck at it angrily, her palm descending in Chumbley’s with a loud pat.
The young officer only smiled, bent his head, and turned to join Hilton in the other room.
As he reached the door, however, he heard a step, a hand was laid upon his arm, and a hoarse voice whispered:
“I am sorry—I was angry—forgive.”