"
"Most roads lead to Lady Maria," Morosine said to Sanchia, who replied
from her heart, "I'm very glad that mine did." Moved either by loyalty to
his friendship, or touched by his recent words, she then brought him
bodily into play. "Mr. Nevile Ingram; Prince Morosine."
The two men inclined; Morosine lifted his hat, Ingram touched his brim.
Ingram, whom Morosine judged as a hard worker just now, supported his part
with great gallantry. If he was naked to all these people who knew him, he
appeared quite unashamed. Morosine, watching him carefully, believed that
he had devoted a night's vigil to getting word perfect. He described
Khartoum with vivacity--the English drill sergeant reigning over mudheaps,
flies, and prowling dogs; getting up cricket-matches for the edification
of contemptuous blacks. "They judge us, those fellows, you know. They are
measuring us with their glazed eyes. The cud they chew has gall in it. I
don't suppose anything offends them more deeply than our idiotic games. Is
there a more frivolous race in the world than ours?"
Lady Maria suggested that the Boers might ask that question; Morosine that
the Germans might answer it. Sanchia standing between these two, faced by
Ingram, kept silent.
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