owned irritably. "Grandfather's prejudiced and old-fashioned."

"He's longer-sighted than most of your voluble friends. He doesn't
rhapsodise. He _knows_.--But I'm not old-fashioned. Nor is Aruna."

"No, poor child; only England-infatuated. She is unwise not taking this
chance of an educated husband----"

"And _such_ a husband!" Roy struck in so sharply that Dyan stared
open-mouthed.

"How the devil can _you_ know?"

"And how the devil can you _not_ know," countered Roy, "when it's your
precious paragon--Chandranath."

He scored his point clean and true. "Chandranath!" Dyan echoed blankly,
staring into the fire.

Roy said nothing; simply let the fact sink in. Then, having dealt the
blow, he proffered a crumb of consolation, "Perhaps he prefers to keep
quiet till he's pulled it off. But I warn you, if he persists, I shall
put every feasible spoke in his wheel."

Dyan faced him squarely. "You seem very intimate with our affairs. Who
told you this?"

"Aruna--herself."

"You are also very intimate--with her."

"As she has lost her brother, her natural protector, I do what I can--to
make up."

Dyan winced and stole a look at him. "Why not make up for still greater
lack--and marry her yourself?"

It was he who hit the mark this time. Roy's blood tingled; but voice and
eyes were under control.

"I've only been there a few weeks. The question has not arisen."

"Your true meaning is--it _could not arise_. They were glad enough for
her service in England; but whatever her service, or her loving, she
must not marry an Englishman, even with the blood of India in his veins.
That is our reward--both----"

It was the fierce bitter Dyan of that long ago afternoon in New College
Lane. But Roy was too angry on his own account to heed. He rose
abruptly.

"I'll trouble you not to talk like that."

Dyan rose also, confronting him. "I _must_ say what is in mind--or go.
Better accept the fact--it is useless to meet."

"I refuse to accept the fact."

"But--there it is. I only make you angry. And you imply evil of the
man--I admire."

He so plainly boggled over the words that Roy struck without hesitation.

"Dyan, tell me straight--_do_ you admire him? Would you have Aruna marry
him?"

"N--no. Impossible. There is--another kind of wife," he blurted out,
averting his eyes; but before Roy could speak, he had pulled himself
together. "However--I mustn't stay talking. Good-night."

Roy's anger--fierce but transient,