“You forget, my dear, the conditions are altered. In the old days they would have settled down happily, and never have dreamt of leaving the palace.”
“As if that made it any better! If they were Arabit women ’twould be different—they’d have a right to go where their lords went. But these poor Hindu and Khemi girls, stolen away against their wills and shut up in the Fort, forbidden to see even their parents again on pain of death—would you so much as wish them to be happy?”
“I fear my wishes would have precious little weight with ’em, my dear—as sometimes happens with another lady. But ain’t you satisfied now they are all at liberty to return to the parental roof? and I trust they’ll enjoy the change!”
“And why wouldn’t they? when each has got her little property to keep her till she can make her arrangements? I’m glad Sir Harry saw to it they wouldn’t be left destitute.”
“That they certainly were not, but I admire your unselfishness, since their gains have all come out of the prize-money we ought to have had.”
“Ah, y’old money-grubber!” said Eveleen affectionately. “It’s as bad as the General y’are, when he says he don’t mind how long Kamal-ud-din hangs off and on without attacking, because he’s spending all his money feeding his followers, and when it’s gone they’ll forsake him.”
“Precisely the sort of thing the General would say to you.”
The hint of superiority was intolerable. “And pray what does he say to you, Major Ambrose, that y’are so high and mighty about it?”
“Accept my apologies, my dear. I assure you I was not alluding to any confidential information imparted to me.”
“Then what were y’alluding to?”