As to India itself, one soon
learns to forget all about it."
He then turned to Lois, who was intent on watching Mr. Travers.
"You weren't on the race-course this morning," he said in an undertone.
"I missed you. Why did you not come?"
"I couldn't," she said. "There was too much to be done. We are rather
short of servants just now, for reasons--well, that, according to you,
ought not to be mentioned on a fine day."
He laughed, but not as he had hitherto done. There was another tone in
his voice, warmer, more confidential. It attracted Beatrice Cary's
attention, and she looked curiously from Lois to the man beside her.
About thirty-five, with a passably good figure, irregular, if honest,
features, and an expression usually somewhat grave, he made no pretensions
to any exterior advantage. He could apparently be gay, as now, but his
gaiety did not conceal the fact that it was unusual. Altogether, he had
nothing about him which appealed to her, but Beatrice Cary was inclined
to resent Lois' obvious intimacy with him as something which accentuated
her own isolation.
"Can you make out what Mr. Travers is saying?" Lois asked, turning
suddenly to her. "I can't hear a word, and I'm sure it's awfully
interesting. Captain Stafford, do you know?"
"I can guess," he answered, half smiling. "When Travers has a suggestion
to make, it usually means that some one has to stump up."
There was a general laugh.
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