"Yes, it is a power," he echoed emphatically, "and I wish to goodness
we had more men like him on our side. We English take things too
lightly--most of us. And in India it is not safe to take things
lightly."
He saw that she was about to make some observation, but at that moment
Mrs. Cary entered. She had evidently been out in the garden, for she
had a bunch of freshly cut flowers in her hand and a girlish muslin
hat shaded the fat cheeks flushed with the unusual exertion.
"Ah, there you are, Captain Stafford!" she said, extending her
disengaged hand. "Mr. Travers said he was sure you had dropped in, and
wouldn't believe it when I told him that I had heard and seen nothing
of you. There, come in, Mr. Travers. It's all right."
She smiled at Stafford with a playful significance that seemed to
indicate an unspoken comprehension of the situation, but Stafford did
not smile back. Like a great many worthy and honest people, he was not
gifted with a sense of humor, and the ridiculous, especially if it
took a human form, was his abomination. Consequently he disliked Mrs.
Cary, though not for the reason which made her unpopular in other
quarters.
Travers followed almost immediately on her invitation, like Stafford,
bearing the marks of a hard day's work on his unusually pale face.
"I expect Stafford has told you what a time we've been having," he
said, in response to Beatrice's greeting.
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