“But the mystery may be cleared up, and everything put right,” suggested Cecil, hopefully. “You would come back if you were asked, Charlie?”
“Rather! I would come back as bottle-washer to a Bengali babu, like the doctor they have at Muscat,” said Charlie, “but I’m afraid the Persian shore of the Gulf will be my nearest point.”
“But, Charlie,” said Lady Haigh, “do you really think of taking another post? You have not been home for a long time, and your property must be all going to rack and ruin. Why not resign when you have seen them through at Bandr Abbas, and go home to look after things a little?”
“I don’t want to go home until I can take Cecil,” said Charlie. “Besides, she prefers me to have something to do instead of loafing.”
“But if you have land and tenants at home, they ought to be looked after,” said Cecil. “I never realised it before.”
“What an unworldly young person you are!” said Charlie. “Yes, there’s all that, but Aunt Frederica looks after it for me.”
“By all means, my dear boy, go home and get the place ready for Cecil, and make acquaintance with her people,” said Lady Haigh. “But don’t let Frederica choose your carpets and curtains for you. Her taste is atrocious. And now, Cecil, you have had thirty-five minutes, so say good-bye and come.”
“Just one minute more, Cousin Elma,” pleaded Charlie.
“Not a second,” said Lady Haigh. “Now, Charlie, not another scene of misery,—I can’t stand it. Say good-bye quickly, my dear boy. If you harrow up Cecil’s feelings again, it will be too much for her.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Mr D’Silva’s voice at the door, “but the boat is waiting for Dr Egerton.”