'Well, friends, at least.'
'And are we not friends now?' she said, laying her hand on his arm. He looked lingeringly at it—a lovely hand it was, round and white, with a golden bangle clasping the dimpled wrist—and he said in a low voice:
'I had hoped we should in time be something dearer——'
'Oh, stuff! Dear Hew, don't begin that sort of thing here,' replied Mary, laughing to conceal her annoyance; 'you will forget all about it when you go back to India again.'
Hew's face darkened ominously.
'But you don't like India?' added Mary, somewhat teasingly, while a roguish smile dimpled her cheeks.
'I hate it, as you know well; yet I may have to return there, for all that you care about it, or me.'
'There are tigers there, and snakes, and all those sort of things, Hew?'
'Yes, and perhaps you would like them to eat me?' he asked, viciously.
'Oh, Hew! how can you speak thus!' she exclaimed, laughing. 'I never said so.'