THE TENTS OF KEDAR.
Only why should it be with pain at all,
Why must I 'twixt the leaves of coronal
Put any kiss of pardon on thy brow?
Why should the other women know so much,
And talk together: Such the look and such
The smile he used to love with, then as now.
SCENE.—A Naini Tal dinner far thirty-four. Plate, wines, crockery, and service carefully calculated to scale of Rs. 6000 per mensem, less Exchange. Table split lengthways by bank of flowers.
Mrs. Herriott (after conversation has risen to proper pitch).—Ah! 'Didn't see you in the crush in the drawing-room. (Sotto voce.) Where have you been all this while, Pip?
Captain Gadsby (turning from regularly ordained dinner partner and settling glasses).—Good evening. (Sotto voce.) Not quite so loud another time. You've no notion how your voice carries. (Aside.) So much for shirking the written explanation. It'll have to be a verbal one now. Sweet prospect! How on earth am I to tell her that I am a respectable, engaged member of society and it's all over between us?
Mrs. H.—I've a heavy score against you. Where were you at the Monday Pop? Where were you on Tuesday? Where were you at the Lamont's tennis? I was looking everywhere.
Capt. G.—For me! Oh, I was alive somewhere, I suppose. (Aside.) It's for Minnie's sake, but it's going to be dashed unpleasant.
Mrs. H.—Have I done anything to offend you? I never meant it if I have. I couldn't help going for a ride with the Vaynor man. It was promised a week before you came up.
