"I am reading the book simply and entirely for amusement," said Mona. "I am getting a little tired of ormolu and marqueterie, but one can't have everything one wants."
"But you don't really care for Ouida?" said the Sahib seriously.
Mona sighed. "If you force me to be critical," she said, "I do prefer sunlight, moonlight, or even glaring gaslight. Ouida takes one into a dark room, and, through a hole in the shutter, she flashes a brilliant gleam of light that never was on sea or land. But what then? She is a very clever woman, and she knows how to set about telling a story. One admires her power and esprit, one skips her vulgar descriptions, and one lets her morality alone."
Lady Munro laughed rather uneasily. She would not have owned to any man that she read Ouida, and Mona puzzled her. "After all, the child has been so buried in her studies," she thought, "that she knows nothing of the world. She will learn not to say risqué things to men, and, fortunately, it is only the Sahib."
Sir Douglas returned, and the conversation resolved itself into a discussion of routes and steamers.
"I will not sleep again at that horrid noisy Voss," he said. "We must lunch and change horses there, and get on to Eide the same night."
"Can you be ready to start at eight?" said the Sahib to Lady Munro.
"Oh dear, yes! I am up every morning hours before that."
Sir Douglas laughed cynically.
"Who is Mr Dickinson?" said Mona, when she and Evelyn had retired to their room.