The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. Indeed I am! I would make this country a collective monarchy, and all the girls and women in it should be the Queen. ‘And it is perhaps not so necessary that I do so, because Joan has told me of another who may like to say I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. To—to find myself. “The man who was found dead in your sister’s room was named Hill?” “It is the man,” she answered. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard.
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