"Mercy, no! And what is more, I do not want him to know. Men are vain as a rule; and I should not like to hurt his vanity by telling him that I sought his acquaintance simply because he might easily have been Arthur Ellison's twin brother."
"Whom I have promised to marry, provided the state of my sentiments is unchanged upon my return; which is altogether a different thing."
"That does not seem quite fair to Mr. Ellison."
"I beg your pardon, Elsa; but the stranger terrifies me. He is something uncanny."
"Nonsense! You've been reading tales about Yogii."
"It is the East, Martha, the East. Here a man may wear a dress-suit and a bowler without offending any one."
"And a woman may talk to any one she pleases."
"No, Elsa; it is what you call the East."
"You have been with me twenty years," began Elsa coldly.
"And love you better than the whole world! And I wish I could guard you always from harm and evil. Those horrid old Englishwomen . . ."
"Oh; so there's been gossip already? You know my views regarding gossip. So long as I know that I am doing no wrong, ladies may gossip their heads off. I'm not a kitten."
"You are twenty-five, and yet you're only a child."
"What does that signify? That I am too young to manage my own affairs? That I must set my clock as others order? Good soul!" putting her arms around the older woman. "Don't worry about Elsa Chetwood. Her life is her own, but she will never misuse it."
"Oh, if you were only married and settled down!"
"You mean, if I were happily married and settled down. There you have it. I'm in search of happiness. That's the Valley of Diamonds. When I find that, Martha, you may fold your hands in peace."
The two days between Prome and Rangoon were distinctly memorable for the subtle changes wrought in the man and woman. Those graces of mind and manner which had once been the man's, began to find expression. Physically, his voice became soft and mellow; his hands became full of emphasis; his body grew less and less clumsy, more and more leonine. It has taken centuries and centuries to make the white man what he is to-day; yet, a single year of misfortune may throw him back into the primordial. For it is far easier to retrograde than to go forward, easier to let the world go by than to march along with it. Had he been less interested in Elsa and more concerned about his rehabilitation, self-analysis would have astonished Warrington. The blunt speech, the irritability in argument, the stupid pauses, the painful study of cunning phrases, the suspicion and reticence that figuratively encrust the hearts of shy and lonely men, these vanished under her warm if careless glances. For the first time in ten years a woman of the right sort was showing interest in him. True, there had been other women, but these had served only to make him retreat farther into his shell.