“I am an Englishman, Lady Haigh,” replied Mr D’Silva, more in sorrow than in anger, as he withdrew, quite unconscious that he was saying the very thing which, as Lady Haigh remarked afterwards, when she remembered to be cynical, an Englishman would not have said.
“Now, Charlie,” said Lady Haigh, when he was gone, “make the most of your time. Never mind me,” and she sat down on the divan and composed herself as if for a nap, while Charlie and Cecil wandered to the other end of the room and enjoyed the luxury of being thoroughly miserable. For some time Cecil could do nothing but cry, with her head on Charlie’s shoulder, while he tried to comfort her, but found the situation so devoid of comfort that he failed miserably.
“Ten minutes more,” came in a sepulchral voice from the corner where Lady Haigh sat, engrossed now with a tattered copy of the Army and Navy Stores list. Cecil roused herself with a sob.
“Oh, Charlie,” she said, “what shall I do without you?”
“Look here, my darling,” said Charlie, energetically, struck with a sudden idea; “just listen to me one moment. I can’t bear to leave you here among all these wretches. Will you—could you—marry me at once? If you would, I——”
“Charlie!” was interjected sharply by Lady Haigh.
“I would come back to the Residency, and we could get Dr Yehudi to marry us. Then you would come with me, and we should not be parted after all.”
“I think, young man, you are forgetting that you would have to reckon with Sir Dugald,” said Lady Haigh, grimly. “I am astonished at your innocence. After knocking about the world for so long, can you really imagine that it is as easy to get married as to order your breakfast at a hotel?”
“Besides, I wouldn’t have you venture back into Baghdad for anything,” said Cecil.
“Then I will wait at Basra for three weeks, or as long as the regulations require,” said Charlie, eagerly, “and Cousin Elma will bring you down there. O, Cecil, my darling, do say yes.”