‘Oh, indeed. I didn’t know. I am very sorry, I’m sure,’ said he.
‘I shall not remain long,’ she continued; ‘most probably I shall return in this ship.’
‘By George, though, I hope you will!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m booked to come home in her too. There’ll be more shooting in three months than I shall want, you know. I mean to pot a few tigers, and try my hand on a wild elephant or two. By Jove, Miss Temple, if you’ll allow me, you shall have the skin of the first tiger I shoot!’
‘Oh, you are too good, Mr. Colledge,’ said she, with a smile trembling on her parted lips, lifting her hand as she spoke to smooth a streak of hair off her forehead with fingers that sparkled with rings; but her eyes were brighter than any of her gems; they turned at that instant full upon me as I stood looking at her a little way past the mizzen-mast, and there seemed something of positive insolence in the brief stare she fixed upon me; the faint smile vanished to the curl of her upper lip as she turned her head.
That, my fine madam, thought I, may be your manner of regarding everything which is not to be found in the Peerage.
Colledge, who had followed her glance, saw me.
‘Oh, Dugdale,’ he cried, ‘can you tell me anything about tigers’ skins—how long it takes to doctor them into rugs and all that sort of thing, don’t you know?’
‘I can tell you nothing about tigers’ skins,’ said I curtly. ‘I have never seen a tiger.’
‘Know anything about lions’ skins, then?’ he sung out with a half-smile, meant, as my temper fancied, for Miss Temple.
‘The ass in the fable clothed himself in one, I believe,’ said I, ‘but his roar betrayed him.’