"I see. You want to know whether I am going to gossip or hold my tongue.
Is that it?"
"Yes, that's it."
"Suppose I gossip?"
"I see no reason why you should be our enemy, so I don't mind admitting to you that it would spoil our plans."
"What may they be?"
"Firstly, to get clear of everything that has happened. We've tried to do that in different places all over Europe, without success. Something or somebody has always cropped up and driven us away. It was just as though every one least concerned in the matter had made up their minds to track us down. At last mother thought of India, and of Marut in particular. My father held a small post somewhere about here before we left for England, and we make out that it is tender associations and all that sort of thing. Of course, we might be found out any day, but perhaps people are not so curious out here, and it gives us a rest."
"Might I ask why you take all this trouble?"
"I was going to tell you. Because my mother wants what she calls position—she wants to mix with the best. We couldn't do that in England, for the reasons I have given you. As for me—I fulfil my destiny. I am seeking a suitable husband."
He drew in his breath in something that was not unlike a gasp.
"My dear Miss Cary, do you know what the world—particularly the woman world—would call you?"