A faint flush came into Miss Bunter's cheek.
“But it does not matter to the English people who live there, does it?”
Mr. Wanless assured her, amid the general smile, that English people carried their own laws and customs with them. Miss Bunter relapsed into a confused yet pleased silence. The talk continued, became detached and desultory again. Miss Bunter no longer listened, but nerved herself up to a great effort. At last, when a lull came, she moistened her lips with some wine, and leant across the table, catching the traveller's eye.
“Have you lived long in Burmah?”
“Yes. I have just come from an eighteen-months' stay there.”
“I wonder if you ever met a Mr. Dotterel there?”
“I know a man of that name,” said Mr. Wanless, smiling. “But Burmah is an enormous place, you know. My friend is an F. J. Dotterel—Government appointment—stationed at Bhamo!”
“That's him,” cried Miss Bunter, in suppressed and ungrammatical excitement. “How extraordinary you should know him! He is a great friend of mine.”
“A very good fellow,” said Mr. Wanless. “His wife and himself were very kind to me.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Miss Bunter. “His wife? It can't be the same—my friend is not married.”