"Not till my job's done here. Get the ayah to bring round some reasonable clothes."
"Right-o! So long, old girl."
He came up to his wife and kissed her shyly. She patted him.
"So long. Not too many pegs."
The room emptied. Neither Meredith nor Anne had said good-bye nor looked at Sigrid. Rasaldû bowed over her hand, but even he realized that she was not conscious of him. As his broad, fat back vanished down the verandah, Mrs. Compton got up, shaking herself.
"Now we can get to business. God defend me in my last hour from sentimentalists of Anne's make. Can I borrow a dressing-gown, Sigrid?"
"Do. Smithy will give you one."
"Thanks. By the way, I expect Boucicault's not the last to go. It's the first bubble on the water, and soon we shall all be in it, and boiling nicely." She made her exit on this rather light-hearted prophecy; but Sigrid, who had made a movement to follow her, lingered for a moment. Her eyes were cast down as though in thought, but in reality they were fixed on Ayeshi's hand. When she raised them suddenly, she found that he too, was watching her. There was nothing insolent, nothing inquisitive in his scrutiny. His expression was grave and reticent. It made him seem much older. He was no longer the boy who had cried on her doorstep. He looked at her with a man's eyes, with a man's understanding and stern power of secrecy.
"Was it you who found the Colonel?" she asked.
"Yes, Mem-Sahib."