But in guessing fear, he argued, his wits must surely have gone
far astray; though fear was the first guess which he had made.
"What was the matter?"
Violet Oliver answered readily.
"A big man was jigging down upon us. I saw him over your shoulder. I
dislike being bumped by big men," she said, with a little easy laugh.
"And still more I hate having a new frock torn."
Dick Linforth was content with the answer. But it happened that Sybil
Linforth was looking on from her chair in the corner, and the corner was
very close to the spot where for a moment Violet Oliver had lost
countenance. She looked sharply at Sir John Casson, who might have
noticed or might not. His face betrayed nothing whatever. He went on
talking placidly, but Mrs. Linforth ceased to listen to him.
Violet Oliver waltzed with her partner once more round the room.
Then she said:
"Let us stop!" and in almost the same breath she added, "Oh, there's
your friend."
Linforth turned and saw standing just within the doorway his friend
Shere Ali.
"You could hardly tell that he was not English," she went on; and indeed,
with his straight features, his supple figure, and a colour no darker
than many a sunburnt Englishman wears every August, Shere Ali might have
passed unnoticed by a stranger.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113