CHAPTER VIII
THE END OF THE DREAM
SHE walked back rather slowly. It was a little cooler, but dusty, and the hot pavements made her feet ache. She was just wondering whether she would take a gharri when a motor stopped at the curb and Peter got out.
"What are you doing?" he asked crossly. "Why are you walking in all this heat? You can't play these games in India. Get in."
He held the door open for her.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ledgard," Jan said, sweetly. "Is it worth while for such a little way?"
"Get in," Peter said again, and Jan meekly got in.
"I was just coming to see you, and I could have taken you anywhere you wanted to go, if only you'd waited. Why didn't you take a gharri?"
"Since you must know," Jan said, smiling at the angry Peter, "I went out because I wanted to go out. And I walked because I wanted to walk."
"You can't do things just because you want to do 'em in this infernal country—you must consider whether it's a suitable time."
Jan made no answer, and silence reigned till they reached the bungalow.