She held her breath—pain shot through with sudden ecstasy. For in speaking he had laid an arm round her shoulder; just supporting her with a firm gentle grasp that sent tingling shocks along all her sensitised nerves.
"Listen, Arúna—and don't cry," he said, low and urgently. "No answer always leaves room for hope. And you shall have your Dyán, I promise you. I won't come back without him. I can't say fairer than that. So now——" his hand closed on her shoulder. "Give over—breaking your poor heart!"
Comforted a little, she uncovered her face. "I will try. Only to-night—I would rather—not the Palace dinner, the fireworks. I would rather go home with Miss Mills and the children...."
"And cry your eyes out all alone. And spoil the whole evening—for us both. No, you don't. Remember—you are Rajputni: not to be hag-ridden by a mere chirágh and a thieving mugger. No more tears and terrors. Look me in the face—and promise."
As usual, he was irresistible. What matter Mai Lakshmi's indifference—since he cared so much? "Faithfully—I promise, Roy," she said; and, for proof of courage, looked straight into his eyes—that seemed mysteriously to hold and draw her into depths beyond depths.
For one incredible moment, his face moved a little nearer to hers—paused, as if irresolute, and withdrew.
So brief was the instant, so slight the movement, that she almost doubted her senses. But her inmost being knew—and ached, without shyness or shame, for the kiss withheld....
"You've the grit—I knew it," Roy said at last, in the level voice that had puzzled her earlier in the evening: and his hand slid from her shoulder. "Come now—we've been too long. Thea will be wondering...."
He turned; and she moved beside him, walking in a dream.
"Did you say much, before I came?" he asked, after a pause, "to that fellow—Chandranath?"