He placed the tin to his lips. The liquid was musty, having been in the skin nearly two days. Otherwise it seemed to be all right. With a sigh of profound relief he gave Iris the cup, and smiled at the most unladylike haste with which she emptied it.
"Drink yourself, and give me some more," she said.
"No more for you at present, madam. In a few minutes, yes."
"Oh, why not now?"
"Do not fret, dear one. You can have all you want in a little while. But to drink much now would make you very ill."
Iris waited until he could speak again.
"Why did you—" she began.
But he bent over the parapet—
"Koi hai!"[5]
"Sahib!"