"And now," said he, "it is late, but if we ride towards Annandale we may
meet them coming back from the polo match we have missed." His eyes
glowed at the thought. Shere Ali, the maharajah, bonds, principal, and
interest, were all forgotten in the anticipation of a brief meeting with
the woman he loved.
* * * * *
CHAPTER VI.
"Why did you not come and see the game? After all your enthusiasm about
polo this morning, I did not think you would miss anything so good,"
were the first words of Miss Westonhaugh as we met her and Kildare in
the narrow path that leads down to Annandale. Two men were riding behind
them, who proved to be Mr. Currie Ghyrkins and Mr. John Westonhaugh. The
latter was duly introduced to us; a quiet, spare man, with his sister's
features, but without a trace of her superb colour and animal spirits.
He had the real Bombay paleness, and had been steamed to the bone
through the rains. As we were introduced, Isaacs started and said
quickly that he believed he had met Mr. Westonhaugh before.
"It is possible, quite possible," said that gentleman affably,
"especially if you ever go to Bombay."
"Yes--it was in Bombay--some twelve years ago. You have probably
forgotten me."
"Ah, yes. I was young and green then.
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