n!"

At that Rose fatally smiled--in spite of genuine dismay.

"I can't see anything _funny_ in it!" snapped her mother. "I thought
you'd be furious. Did you ever notice----? Had you the least suspicion?"

"Not the least," Rose answered, with unruffled calm. "I knew."

"You _knew_? Yet you were fool enough to accept him--and wilfully
deceive your own mother! I suppose he insisted, and you----"

"No. _I_ insisted. I knew my own mind. And I wasn't going to have him
upset----"

"But if _I'm_ upset it doesn't matter a brass farthing?"

"It does matter. I'm very sorry you've had such a jar." Rose had some
ado to maintain her coolness; but she knew it for her one unfailing
weapon. "Of course, I meant to tell you later; in fact, as soon as he
came up to settle things finally----"

"Most con_sider_ate of you! And when he _does_ come up, _I_ propose to
settle things finally----" She choked, gulped, and glared. She was
realising.... "The _position_ you've put me in! It's detestable!"

Rose sighed. It struck her that her own position was not exactly
enviable. "I've said I'm sorry. And really--it didn't seem the least
likely.... Who _was_ the officious instrument of Fate?"

"Young Joe Bradley, of the Forests. We were talking of the riots and
poor Major Desmond, and Mrs Tait happened to mention Roy Sinclair. Mr
Bradley asked--was he the artist's son; and told how he once went to tea
there--when his mother was staying with Lady Despard--and had a stand-up
fight with Roy. He said Roy's mother was rather a swell native woman--a
_pucca_ native; and Roy went for him like a wild thing, because he
called her an ayah----"

Again Rose smiled in spite of herself. "He would!"

"Would he, indeed! That's all _you_ think of--though you know I've got a
weak heart. And I nearly fainted--if _that's_ any interest to you! The
Bradley boy doesn't know--about us. But Mrs Tait's a perfect little
sieve. It'll be all over Simla to-morrow. And I was so pleased and
proud----" Her voice shook. Tears threatened. "And it's so awkward--so
undignified ... backing out----"

"My dear mother, I've no intention whatever of backing out."

"And I've no intention what_ever_ of having a half-caste for a
son-in-law."

Rose winced at that, and drew in a steadying breath. For now, at last,
the cards were on the table. She was committed to flat opposition or
retreat--an impasse she had skilfully avoided hitherto. But for Roy's
sake she stood her ground.