She nodded, her head once more bent over her work.
"None of them lasted," she said. "Crazes never do."
There was a moment's silence. Their little burst of gay recollections was over, and the restraint had regained its old ascendancy over them. Unknown to her, Nicholson was watching his companion with keen, anxious eyes.
"You look pale and tired," he said gently. "Madras is getting too much for you. When is Travers going to take you for a change?"
"I don't know. Not just now. Besides, I am happier here. I like the noise and bustle."
"You used not to. You were all for outdoor sports and beautiful scenery."
"Yes, but now it is different. I could not stand the quiet. I must have noise to distract me—I mean, I have grown so accustomed to it."
"Yes," he said slowly, "one grows accustomed to it." Then, presently, he added, in another tone: "At any rate, my term in Madras is at an end. I return to Marut next week."
She started. The start was almost a violent one, and her hands fell limply in her lap.
"You are going back to Marut?" she said. "For ever?"