The girl was the first to speak.
"Really, I don't know what to say. I hope you don't think—"
"I think as you do," he interposed, "that you've been very foolish."
She laughed tremulously. A voice as soft as a gentle monsoon rain—a voice that slurred over its words. Wisps of hair were burnished by passing lights; her throat shone palely. Only the eyes were in the shadow—dark eyes, deep with mystery and a promise of revelations.... Old ivory and bronze. A picture of soft tones and colors.
"My brother would—well, I hardly know what he would do if he knew about this!"
"Your brother's in the city?"—conscious of a lingering strain.
She shook her head. "I'm alone, or I wouldn't have done what I did to-night—or what I'm doing now. It was brazen of me to come up to you as I did, but I was frightened—terribly!" Then, with that nervous little laugh, she added, "But it wasn't as though I were approaching a totally strange person, for—for I believe you were at the hotel in Benares."
Trent remembered his uniform and that now he was Tavernake—remembered divers things. He decided quickly.
"You must be mistaken about having seen me at Benares; but I've a brother there—in the Army. Perhaps you saw him. He passed through the city to-day."
"Oh! Perhaps so!"—this rather frigidly. "What a striking likeness!" He felt her eyes upon him—those dark eyes. A moment passed before she said: "I must explain why I'm here, at this hour. Of course it will seem foolish to you, but I'm a tourist, and I wanted to see Calcutta's Chinese colony at night—oh, it had to be night, because I knew everything would be tawdry and ugly in daylight!"