Part 31 (2/2)

”I wonder you don't cut your hair to bits,” had once remarked before a mult.i.tude, an envious dame, whose curls reposed cosily in a box o'

nights, and who had grave doubts as to the sincerity of Leonie's tawny locks.

”I run it through in its sheath,” Leonie had replied, pulling the sheathed dagger out as she spoke, so that her hair had fallen in a jumbled scented mantle all over her, causing the men to put their hands in their pockets, or behind their backs, and the women to mechanically pat their heads; just as you fidget unconsciously with your veil, or the curls above your ear, when someone of your own s.e.x, and far better turned-out, happens upon your horizon.

On this night her absurdly small feet made her head look almost top heavy, just as the uncorseted small waist emphasised the width of her shoulders, and the violet shadows enlarged the opalescent weird eyes looking wearily on the scene around her.

Why didn't she go back to England if she hated it all so much?

Because she couldn't! Because India held her and she waited upon Fate as patiently as ever did Mr. Micawber.

”Lady Hickle ought to go to the hills, she's looking absolutely f.a.gged!”

The male voice drifted in through the window upon a pause in the music.

”Well! continuous _sleep-walking's_ not likely to make you look your best, is it?”

The d.a.m.nable giggle at the end of the remark brought a frown to Jan Cuxson's face as he picked up somebody's wrap from a chair, put it round Leonie and led her unresistingly down the steps into the grounds.

It sounds better to say ”grounds” rather than ”compound” when speaking of Government House.

”I--I _hate_ all this,” Leonie said impulsively as she sat down on a marble seat. ”I hate India--I--I----”

She flung her head back, and it came to rest upon the man's shoulder, and she s.h.i.+vered ever so lightly when he pressed it still further back, pinioning her arms so that she could not move.

”Leonie.”

The sudden authority in the voice brought a light to the eyes on a level with his mouth; she moved unconsciously, and Cuxson suddenly letting her go caught both her hands in one of his, pulled her round sideways, and jerked them up to his chin, and she laughed softly as she fell slightly forward; and laughed even more softly when he crushed her back again against him with his hands upon her breast.

Both heedless in their love of the eyes watching, of the hidden form, and above all of that relentless will which causes some of us uncontrollably to do odd things at odd moments under the Indian stars.

If _only_ he had not hesitated, if only he had turned the face to him then and there and closed the gold-flecked eyes with kisses.

But instead he held her crushed to the point of agony against him with his mouth upon the sweetness of her neck, leaving the gold-flecked eyes to open wider, and still wider as they stared straight into the shrubbery around, where the flaming poinsettia flowers looked black under the stars.

”Beloved! Leonie, listen----”

”_Don't!_ please don't!”

She pulled herself free and knelt on one knee upon the bench, with both hands outstretched against him; and he, not grasping the psychological points of the moment, sat down dumbly beside her, instead of mastering her physically, or mentally on the spot as it behoved him to do.

Heavens! what fools some men can be with that jungle animal woman within their hands.

”Leonie, listen dear, I want you to marry me, dear--soon!”

The words fell upon Leonie's clamouring soul as dismally as the raindrops of your childhood fell upon the window-pane when you were waiting to start for a picnic.

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