e of that revealing--or rather because of it--rebellion
stirred afresh. And, as if divining his thoughts, she impulsively raised
her hand. "Now, Roy, you must promise. Only so, I can speak to Dad and
rest his mind."

Seizing her hand, he kissed it fervently.

"Darling--after all that, a mere promise would be a fatuous superfluity.
If you say 'No Indian wife,' that's enough for me. I suppose I must rest
content with the high privilege of possessing an Indian mother."

Her radiant surprise was a beautiful thing to see. Leaning forward, she
took his head in her hands and kissed him between his eyebrows where the
caste-mark should be.

"Must it be October--so soon?" she asked.

He told her of Dyan, and she sighed. "Poor Dyan! I wonder? It is so
difficult--even with the best kind--this mixing of English education and
Indian life. I hope it will make no harm for those two----"

Then they started, almost like lovers; for the drooping branches rustled
and Tara stood before them--a very vision of June; in her straight frock
of Delphinium blue; one shell-pink rose in her hat and its counterpart
in her waist-belt. Canvas shoes and tennis-racquet betrayed her fell
design on Roy.

"Am I despritly superfluous?" she queried, smiling from one to the
other.

"Quite too despritly," Roy assured her with emphasis.

She wrinkled her nose at him, so far as its delicate aquiline would
permit. "Speak for yourself, spoilt boy!"

But she favoured him with her left hand, which he retained, while she
stooped over the hammock and kissed Lilamani on both cheeks. Then she
stood up and gently disengaged her hand.

"Christine's to blame. She guessed you were here. I came over in hopes
of tennis. It's just perfect. Not too hot."

"Still more perfect in here, lazing with Mummy," said graceless Roy.

"I disown you, I am ashamed!" Lilamani rebuked him only half in jest.
"No more lazing now. I have done with you. Only you have to get me out
of this."

They got her out, between them; fussed over her and laughed at her; and
then went off together for Roy's racquet.

She stood in the silvery sunlight watching them till they disappeared
round the corner of the house. Not surprising that Nevil said--"No
hurry!" If he would only wait...! He was still too young, too much in
love with India--with herself. Yet, had he already begun inditing
sonnets, even to the most acceptable eyebrow, her perverse heart would
doubtless have known the prick of jea