"Learning one's place!" said Gerrard, with a wry look.
"Exactly—as I have been doing. Our days of independent action are over, old boy. If we had been allowed to capture Agpur it might have been different, but I don't know. Who wouldn't go from governing kingdoms to take up regimental work again?"
Gerrard did not possess the art of banishing unpleasantness with a jest, and his brow was clouded as they rode up to his tent between the lines of the Habshiabadis. For them, however, he had nothing but praise, rejoicing their hearts by admiration of their discipline, and learning, as he expected, that Charteris had continued their military education during his absence. General Desdichado was still maintaining a judicious seclusion, owing to a fresh attack of illness, it seemed, and Charteris remarked on the curious character of the ailment, which invariably became acute when there was a question of the General's coming in contact with any British officer.
"Scandal says that nothing but Sadiq Ali's direct command keeps him in the field at all," he added. "Otherwise he would sneak back to Habshiabad, and drink himself to death there in peace."
They were inside the tent now, and Charteris turned suddenly on his friend. "Well, Hal, what news? Is that blessing of mine wanted, or not?"
"It's no good pretending I don't know what you mean, but on my life, Bob,
I can't tell you."
"Can't tell—in a matter of this kind? Nonsense!"
"It's this way. Almost the whole of the time I was there I could have sworn she cared for you. We talked of nothing but you and your doings."
"Precious little in that. You did just the same when you thought I was dead, and it meant absolutely nothing."
"But it makes every possible difference when we both know you are alive. At any rate, I was too jolly downhearted to court another refusal. But just as I came away, she looked at me in a way that made me think—and something that she said——"