arrows, will throw magic dust in his
eyes. You might meet other cousins--like Aruna, and there would come
trouble, because"--she faced him steadily and he saw the veiled blush
creep into her cheeks--"that kind of marriage--for you--must not be."

Now he understood; and, for all her high resolve, she thrilled at the
swift flash of anger in his eyes.

"Who says--it must not be?" he demanded with a touch of heat. "Aunt
Jane--confound her! When I do marry, it will be to please myself--not
_her_!"

"Oh, hush, Roy--and listen! You run away too fast. It is not Aunt
Jane--it is _I_ who am saying must not, because I know--the difficult
thought in Dad's heart. And I know it is right----"

"Why is it right?" He was up in arms again. Obstinate--but how
lovable!--"Why mayn't I have the same luck as he had--if it comes my
way? I've never met a girl or woman that could hold a candle to you for
all-round loveliness. And it's the East that gives you--inside and
out--a quality, a bloom--unseizable--like moonlight----"

"But, my darling! You make me blush!" She drew her sari across her face,
hiding, under a veil of lightness, her joy at his outspoken praise.

"Well, you made me say it. And I'm not sentimentalising. I'm telling a
home truth!"

His vehemence was guarantee of that. Very gently he drew back the sari
and looked deep into her eyes.

"Why should we only tell the ugly ones, like Aunt Jane? Anyway, I've
told you my truest one now--and I'm not ashamed of it."

"No need. It is a jewel I will treasure in my heart."

She dropped the veil of lightness, giving him sincerity for sincerity as
he deserved. "But--Ancient one, have you seen so many girls and women in
your long life----?"

"I've seen a pretty good mixture of all sorts--Oxford, London, and round
here," he insisted unabashed. "And I've had my wits about me. Of course
they're most of them jolly and straight. Good fellows in fact; talking
our slang; playing our games. No harm, of course. But it kills the
charm of contrast--the supreme charm. They understand _that_ in India
better than we do here."

The truth of that last Lilamani could not deny. Too clearly she saw in
the violent upheaval of Western womanhood the hidden germs of tragedy,
for women themselves, for the race.

"You are right, Roy," she said, smiling into his serious face. "From
our--from Hindu point of view, greatest richness of life come from
greatest possible difference between men and women. And