Roy said nothing; simply let the fact sink in. Then, having dealt the blow, he proffered a crumb of consolation, "Perhaps he prefers to keep quiet till he's pulled it off. But I warn you, if he persists, I shall put every feasible spoke in his wheel."
Dyán faced him squarely. "You seem very intimate with our affairs. Who told you this?"
"Arúna—herself."
"You are also very intimate—with her."
"As she has lost her brother, her natural protector, I do what I can—to make up."
Dyán winced and stole a look at him. "Why not make up for still greater lack—and marry her yourself?"
It was he who hit the mark this time. Roy's blood tingled; but voice and eyes were under control.
"I've only been there a few weeks. The question has not arisen."
"Your true meaning is—it could not arise. They were glad enough for her service in England; but whatever her service, or her loving, she must not marry an Englishman, even with the blood of India in his veins. That is our reward—both——"
It was the fierce bitter Dyán of that long ago afternoon in New College Lane. But Roy was too angry on his own account to heed. He rose abruptly.