It was very annoying, but there was no help for it.  She knew very few people in Simla, and neither of the voices that mingled with Lady Bassett’s was familiar to her.  It did not take her long to decide that she had no desire for a closer acquaintance with their owners.  One was a man’s voice, sonorous and weighty, that sounded as if it were accustomed to propound mighty problems from the pulpit.  The other was a woman’s, high-pitched as the wail of a cat on a windy night, that caused the listening girl to nestle back on her pillow with the instant resolution to remain where she was until the intruders saw fit to depart, even if by so doing she had to forego her tea.

She opened her book with an unwarrantable feeling of resentment.  Of course Lady Bassett could not know she was there, and of course she was at liberty to go whither she would in her own garden.  But no one likes to have their cherished privacy invaded even in ignorance.  And Lady Bassett might surely have concluded that she would be out somewhere under the pines.

Well, they probably would not stay for long, and she was in no hurry.  With a faint sigh of lingering annoyance she began to read.

But the piercing, feline voice soon pounded flail-like into her consciousness, scattering her thoughts with ruthless insistence.

“Of course,” it asserted, “it was the only thing he could possibly do.  No man with any decent feeling could have done otherwise.  But it was a little hard on him.  Surely you agree with me there?”

Lady Bassett’s voice, soft and precise, made answer.  “Indeed I think he has behaved most generously in the matter.  As you say, it would have been but a gentleman’s duty to make an offer of marriage, considering all the circumstances.  But he went further than that.  He actually insisted upon the arrangement.  I suppose he felt bound to do so as the poor child’s father had placed her in his charge.  She is quite unformed still, and is very far from realising her grave position.  Indeed, I scarcely expected her to accept him without the urgent reason for the match being explained to her; for it is quite obvious that she does not care for him in that way.  Poor child, she is scarcely old enough to know the true meaning of love.  It is very sad for them both.”

A gentle sigh closed the sentence.  Muriel’s book had slid down upon a cushion of pine-needles.  She had raised herself in the hammock, and was staring at the rustic woodwork of the summer-house as though she saw a serpent twining there.

There followed a brief silence.  Then came the man’s voice, deliberate and resounding.

“I am sure it must have caused you much anxiety, dear Lady Bassett.  With my knowledge of Nicholas Ratcliffe I confess that I should have felt very grave misgivings as to whether he were endowed with the chivalry to fulfil the obligation he had incurred.  My esteem for him has increased fourfold since I heard of his intention to shoulder his responsibilities thus courageously.  I had not deemed him capable of such a sacrifice.  I sincerely trust that he will be given strength to carry it through worthily.”