"But—my good Dyán——!"
"Well—it's true. Suppose I wish to promote that closer union we all chatter about by marrying an English girl—what then?"
Up went Roy's eyebrows. "Are you after an English wife?"
"I am submitting a case—that might easily occur." He spoke with a touch of irritation; and fearing self-betrayal, swerved from the main issue. "Would you marry an Indian girl?"
"I believe so. If I was keen. I'm not at all sure, though, if it's sound—in principle—mixing such opposite strains. And in your case—hypothetical, I suppose——?"
Dyán's grunt confessed nothing and denied nothing.
"Well—from what one hears, an English wife, out there, might make a bit of complication, if you get the 'Civil.'"
Dyán started. "I shan't go up for it. I've changed my mind."
"Good Lord! And you've been sweating all this time."
Dyán's smile was tinged with bitterness.