"You look pale and tired," he said gently. "Madras is getting too much
for you. When is Travers going to take you for a change?"
"I don't know. Not just now. Besides, I am happier here. I like the
noise and bustle."
"You used not to. You were all for outdoor sports and beautiful
scenery."
"Yes, but now it is different. I could not stand the quiet. I must
have noise to distract me--I mean, I have grown so accustomed to it."
"Yes," he said slowly, "one grows accustomed to it." Then, presently,
he added, in another tone: "At any rate, my term in Madras is at an
end. I return to Marut next week."
She started. The start was almost a violent one, and her hands fell
limply in her lap.
"You are going back to Marut?" she said. "For ever?"
He smiled, but his eyes avoided hers.
"Not for ever, I hope. I am sick of pen-work, and want to get back to
the front among my men. There is a company of sepoys to be stationed
at Marut, and they have given me the command. It's a good post, though
of course I would rather be at the frontier, where there's something
doing. At any rate, I must get away from Madras as soon as possible."
"Yes," she said absently, "no doubt it is best."
She went on stitching as though nothing had happened, but her hands
trembled, and once she threw back her head as though fighting down a
strong emotion. But he had ceased to watch her. He was leaning a
little forward, one elbow resting on his knee, his eyes fixed
steadfastly in front of him.
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