"That's rubbish!" she rebuked him. But her pleasure in the words was self-evident.
"And that's modesty!" he capped her promptly, enjoying the deepening carnation of the cheek turned towards him. "Will it be Murree again this year?"
"Yes; I suppose so." She spoke without enthusiasm.
"Wouldn't you prefer Simla?"
"Well, naturally—a thousand times."
"Then why not go there? I would come up too, like a shot. I can get a couple of months this year, and we'd have a ripping time of it. Shall we call it settled—eh?"
She sighed and shook her head.
"It's too expensive. Besides, there seems to be something wrong with Simla. My husband doesn't like it much; nor does Honor."
The implication in Kresney's laugh was lost upon Evelyn Desmond.
"Oh, well, of course Simla isn't much of a place for husbands," he explained loftily, "or for girls. It's the bachelors who have a good time there,—and the married women."