She struggled for freedom; but he held her in a vice.
"You great schoolboy,—let me go!" she commanded, between laughter and vexation. "I don't care if you do hate dinner parties. I must have them sometimes. I love to see people enjoying themselves as they all did tonight, except that odious Mrs Norton, who doesn't count. You're not pliable enough. That's what's the matter with you. But if I live to a hundred and twenty you'd never make a hermit out of me!"
"And if you gave a party every night of your life you'd never make a society man out of me. I should simply apply for a trans-frontier billet, where wives are not admitted. But look here, little woman, did Norton tell you about next week?"
"Of course he did. You'll be gone in three or four days. It's hateful. Do let me have my arms back, darling."
And he surrendered this time.
"Are you sleepy?" she asked, her eyes, full of laughter, resting in his.
"Lord, no. I'm going to sit up and put in two hours work at least before turning in."
"Indeed you'll do no such thing. You're going to sit up and talk to me. I didn't like to bother Mr Norton; but I've a hundred questions to ask you about it all."
"Hazúr ke kushi! [2] Ask away. Only let me get at my pipe, and I'm at your service."
He filled and lighted it with leisurely satisfaction; and Quita, settling herself on the carpet beside him, her face looking into his, her bright head laid against his knee, kept him talking of Border politics and Border warfare till all thought of putting in two hours' work was out of the question.