The girl's bright eyes flashed.
"Mr. Sinka nod led me thing' thad," she said, remembering how Sinclair had evaded the question. "I ask him thad the pretty lady is betrothed and he make me thing'—no."
Mrs. Davis was silent a moment.
"Er—that's only a way American men have, Numè. You must not believe them; and be very careful not to tell them you like them—because—because they—they often laugh at girls who do that."
Numè did not stir. She sat very still and quiet.
Mr. Davis joined them, and noticing the girl's constrained face, he inquired what was the matter.
"Nothing at all, my dear," the American lady said. "I was just giving Numè some pointers."
"Look here, Jenny, you'll spoil her—make her into a little prig, first thing you know. At least, she is genuine now, and unaffected."
"Walter," Mrs. Davis said, rising with dignity, "Mrs. Ballard thought it outrageous for Sinclair to have sat with her all evening. I never knew him to do such a thing before with any one. That makes it all the more noticeable. Cleo, too, was quite perturbed."
When the party broke up and the guests were slowly passing into their jinrikishas, numbers of them lingered in the garden, bidding laughing farewells.