--a woman.

"No, Roy--I'm not coming. It's--dear of you to want me. But I can't--for
lots of reasons. So please understand, once for all. And don't fuss."

"But you said--you cared," Roy murmured blankly.

"Of course I do. Only--there's caring--and caring ... since you make me
say it. You must know that by now. Anyway, I know we simply can't get
married just because we're very fond of each other and it would please
'Mummy' and be convenient for India."

Roy sighed portentously. He found himself feeling younger and younger
with every smiling, reasonable word she uttered. It was all so unlike
his eager, fiery Tara that perplexity tempered a little his genuine
dismay.

"I s'pose you're right," he grudgingly admitted. "But I'm fearfully
disappointed."

"You are now. You won't be afterwards. It's not marrying time for
you--yet. You've lots of big things to do first. Go out to India and do
them. Then--when the time really comes, you'll understand--and you'll be
grateful to me--for understanding now. There, what a lecture! But the
point is--we can't: and I won't be badgered about it. _I'm_ going back
to tea; and if you don't come, I'll have to tell Aunt Lila--why?"

He sighed. "I'll probably tell her myself to-night. Would you mind?"

"N-no, she'll understand."

"Bet she won't."

"She will. You're not the only person the darling understands, though
you _are_ her spoilt boy."

She swung round on that impetuous little speech, more like her normal
self; and her going was so swift that Roy had some ado to keep pace with
her. He had still more ado to unravel his own tangle of thought and
emotion. A few clear points emerged from a chaos of sensations, like
mountain peaks out of a mist. He knew she was all of a sudden
distractingly lovely; that her charm and obstinacy combined had
thoroughly churned him up; that all the same, she was right about his
unreadiness for marrying now; that he hoped she didn't utterly despise
him; that he hated the idea of leaving her more than ever....

Her pace, perhaps intentionally, made talk difficult; and he still had a
lot to say.

"Tara--why _are_ you sprinting like this?" he broke out, reproachfully.
"Are you angry with me?"

She vouchsafed him a small smile.

"Not yet. But I soon will be, if you don't take care. And I'm dangerous
in a temper!"

"Don't I know that? I once had a scratch that didn't heal for a month.
But do walk slower. You're not chucking me--for good--eh?"

S