“Ye-es,” responded Lady Haigh sleepily. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, do let us talk a little. I can’t sleep. Elma, if they should separate us—if they are only pretending to go to sleep——”
“Nonsense! after such a day of riding they are as tired as I am, and that’s saying a good deal. Don’t conjure up horrors.”
“But if they took us to different places! Oh, Elma, if I was alone among these people I should die!”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t. You’d get on much better than you think.”
“I couldn’t do anything. You can say what you like to these people and they obey you. No one would obey me.”
“Well, you conquered Wazira Begum, at any rate. I only made her hate me, though she did what I told her.”
“But as long as you’re there, I feel safe—as if you were a man.”
“What a testimony! But, Pen, you’re horribly old-fashioned. You shouldn’t be such a honeysuckle kind of girl—always leaning on some one and clinging to them—and yet you are so obstinate in some ways. I suppose it’s no good telling you to stand up for yourself, though. You seem born to cling. Colin was your prop for a long time, and you let him drag you out to India to marry Ferrers, whom you didn’t want, and he very nearly succeeded. I suppose I’m the support just at present, until Major Keeling comes to the front. He will be a good stout prop, at any rate. I couldn’t stand his domineering ways, but I suppose you like them.”
“Oh yes,” said Penelope thankfully. “You don’t know him. Elma——”