'"
This was a subject which Seymour Michael dreaded. He was ignorant of how
much Dora might know. He had suspected from the first that Jem Agar's
desire that she should know the truth had been a mere matter of
sentiment; but the fact of meeting her at this public festivity, gay and
in colours, shook this theory from its foundation. He disliked Edith
Mazerod, because he suspected that his own early career had probably been
discussed in her hearing, and her easy lightness of heart was to him as
incomprehensible as it was suspicious. Dora he rather feared without
knowing why.
"I suppose you know India well?" she said, looking straight in front of
her.
"Too well," was the reply, with a sharp sidelong glance.
He was right. At that moment Dora might have been one of these
_habituees_ of rout and ballroom. She was very pale and looked tired out.
"I went out there thirty years ago," he continued, "into the Mutiny. From
that time to this India has been killing my friends."
There was a little pause.
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