"Even in marriage, do you mean?" asked a lady, looking up from a book of prints.
"Less then, perhaps, according to Mr. Polewhele," said Rose; "orange blossoms fade and die as well as summer leaves."
"What a lovely little cynic it is!" said Waller in Mabel's ear; "but she never means all she says."
The conversation now became general; and save for a speaking glance from time to time, and—once at least—when their hands touched (involuntarily, of course) Denzil felt that his chances with Rose were over for the day.
"Our band plays to-morrow at the grand-stand," said an officer of the 54th Native Infantry.
As he spoke, Denzil's eyes met those of Rose, and swift as lightning each knew where to look for the other on the morrow.
"Save with the regimental bands," said Mabel, "Rossini, Bellini and Chimarosa are all lost to us here. Papa strove hard to bring our piano up country; but it was lost in the Khyber Pass by the native artillery (who had tied it on a field piece) when some wild Khyberees appeared; and they, finding that the box emitted sounds, fired a score of juzail* balls through it on speculation."
* The Afghan rifle; hence juzailchees, or riflemen.
"When I was in the Ceylon Rifles," said a Queen's officer, "I have actually seen a piano placed in four bowls of water."
"For what purpose?" asked Mabel.