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Wylie, I. A. R. (Ida Alexa Ross), 1885-1959

"The Native Born or, the Rajah's People"


"I don't want to see him either. Go and tell him that I am not at
home--that I have started for Madras--quick! Don't stand there
staring."
His extraordinary excitement, apparently unreasonable and entirely
opposed to his calm, easy-going habits, had the effect of setting fire
to her dormant suspicion. She wrenched herself free.
"I am not going to tell him a lie," she said firmly.
"Lois, you are a little fool! Do as I tell you. It isn't a lie--only a
piece of conventional humbug which everybody understands. There,
please!" His tone of entreaty was more disagreeable to her than his
roughness. All the pride and rigidity of her Puritan temperament was
up in arms against the indefinable something which it had long ago
recognized and despised.
"It is not conventional humbug," she retorted--"not in this case. You
are lying because you are afraid, because you have a reason for not
seeing Captain Stafford which you won't tell me."
He had not time to answer. The curtains were pushed on one side, and
Stafford entered hurriedly. He was covered with dust and looked
haggard and exhausted. He did not seem to see Lois, though she stood
immediately in front of him. His eyes passed over her head to Travers.
"I am sorry to come in unannounced," he said, without giving either an
opportunity to speak, "but your servant was making difficulties, and I
have not a minute to lose. I have galloped every inch of the way here
from the Colonel's bungalow.


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