“Oh, Mab hasn’t set up as a free-lance yet.”
“Have you, then? I had an idea that you were going as one of the Mission. Even I have a professional status.”
“I am the military member—aide-de-camp to the Chief, or something of the kind, I believe. You are the surgeon, I presume?”
“Not exactly. The King of Ethiopia’s principal wife is nearly blind, and he has begged that a lady doctor may accompany the Mission to Kubbet-ul-Haj, and attend the Queen while Sir Dugald Haigh remains there. Lady Haigh is rather glad to find a companion, and I am delighted to have such a chance.”
“The Mission is highly honoured,” said Dick, not quite pleasantly.
Miss Keeling looked at him in some surprise.
“It makes it much pleasanter that you are going too,” she said. “My short Indian experience has taught me how delightful it is to find old friends in a foreign country.”
“You are too kind,” said Dick, stiffly. “I’m afraid you overrate my powers of—er—entertainment; but, of course, I shall be delighted to do all I can to make the journey less tedious.”
She looked at him again. Was it possible that the man was such an arrant coxcomb as to imagine that she was doing her best to lead up to a resumption of the old state of affairs between them? Could he be trying to warn her off, or were his infelicitous remarks due only to ill-temper? But why should he be ill-tempered? In any case, it was clear that Major North, V.C., was a very different person from the boy who had gone to India fifteen years before, and the change was not an improvement. There was the slightest possible touch of hauteur in Georgia’s manner as she turned away, saying, with a graciousness which made Dick writhe with something of his old feeling of insignificance in her presence—
“You must not think that I have forgotten to congratulate you on your splendid exploit, Major North. I had hoped to be able to hear something about it from yourself, but no doubt Mabel will tell me all I want to know.”