"I think you must be dreaming, Mr Gerrard!" The chilly indignation of her tone brought him to himself. "I send you a message by Major Charteris? Never!"
"Forgive me; I hardly know what I am saying. He told me you had refused him, and I thought that it might be because—that there might be some one else."
"But even then?" She still faced him bravely, though the affectation of polite interest in her tones was very difficult to keep up.
"You can't pretend not to understand—after everything——"
"But it might not be——"
"Oh no, no!" the pain in his voice brought the tears to her eyes. "Don't say it's some one else! I could have given you up to him, but not—— You know something of what he is; there is no braver or better fellow in India, and now that his name is known, there's no saying how far he will go. You could not have refused him—unless——"
Honour was opening and closing recklessly the cameo clasp that fastened her black velvet bracelet. "Did you come here to plead Major Charteris's cause?" she asked in a very small voice. "What if I—if I told you your—your pleading had convinced me?"
"I should say you had chosen the better man," said Gerrard steadily.
A hand touched his for a moment, and was snatched away immediately. "I have chosen the better man," murmured Honour. "But it is not Major Charteris," and the hand allowed itself to be captured.
"I was certain of it!" cried Gerrard triumphantly. Honour withdrew her hand hastily. "Certain? certain of what?" she demanded. Gerrard was horrified.