"I wouldn't advise you to go alone." This soberly. "Too, if you don't understand the language, it would prove rather dry entertainment."
Another smile. "Why must a woman have such narrow man-made boundaries? If you hint that it's dangerous, then you'll intrigue me the more."
A recollection of the Chinese quarter flashed through him.
"If you insist on going," he said, and he, too, was smiling, "I daresay nothing can stop you—and the best possible thing for me to do is to offer my guardianship."
"It really wouldn't be stealing your time? Oh, it would be splendid!... But you're leading me by all these shops. Shall we go in here?"
It was an epochal morning for Trent. After the tension of the past few days, he craved relaxation. This recess had a warmth and exhilarating intimacy that was a stimulus to him, and he luxuriated in it, listening attentively as the girl talked—talk that revealed little brilliant flashes of her nature—and drinking in the study of rich tints that her face and hair presented in the straw-colored light beneath her sunshade. He had the feeling of a seaman in port, a boyish thrill at the freedom from restraint; a few hours shore leave, then the sea again. He entirely forgot his substantial shadow until they returned to the hotel. The sight of the pink turban whipped him back into tension.
"At five-thirty," she said as they parted. "And I'm sure it will be a wonderful adventure."
As she left him, Tambusami approached, smiling his ingratiating smile.
"I have news to report, Presence," he announced. "It is indeed well that I am here to protect your interests, for while you were away some one entered your room, and had not I appeared at the opportune moment he might—"
"You had him arrested?" Trent cut in.