"And that, I think, would have been a pity for us both.
If I can help you, perhaps you can help me." He paused and then added
slowly: "I have been standing watching you a long time."
"A long time!" A curious fear crept over the boyish face. "You saw us
playing, then--and heard what we said?"
"Yes."
"And you wish to help me?"
"If I can."
Geoffries turned his head away, avoiding the direct gaze.
"You are very kind, Rajah Sahib. I'm afraid I'm not to be helped."
The sight of that awkward shame and misery drove all personal grief
from Nehal's mind. He drew forward a chair and seated himself opposite
his companion, clasping his sinewy, well-shaped hands on the table
before him.
"Let us try and put all formalities aside," he said. "If you can treat
me as a friend, let nothing prevent you. We are strangers to each
other, but then the whole world is stranger to me. Yet I would be glad
to help and understand the world, as I would be glad to help and
understand you if you will let me."
Geoffries looked shyly at this strange _deus ex machina_, troubled by
perplexing considerations. How much had the Rajah heard of the
previous conversation, how much had he understood? Above all, what
would his comrades say if they found him pouring out his heart to
"this fellow," who had been the constant butt for their arrogant
contempt? And yet, as often happens, amidst his many friends he was
intensely alone.
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