"But--my good Dyán----!"

"Well--it's true. Suppose I wish to promote that closer union we all
chatter about by marrying an English girl--what then?"

Up went Roy's eyebrows. "Are _you_ after an English wife?"

"I am submitting a case--that might easily occur." He spoke with a touch
of irritation; and fearing self-betrayal, swerved from the main issue.
"Would _you_ marry an Indian girl?"

"I believe so. If I was keen. I'm not at all sure, though, if it's
sound--in principle--mixing such opposite strains. And in your
case--hypothetical, I suppose----?"

Dyán's grunt confessed nothing and denied nothing.

"Well--from what one hears, an English wife, out there, might make a bit
of complication, if you get the 'Civil.'"

Dyán started. "I shan't go up for it. I've changed my mind."

"Good Lord! And you've been sweating all this time."

Dyán's smile was tinged with bitterness.

"Well--one lives and learns. I can make good use of my knowledge without
turning myself into an imitation Englishman. An Indian wife might make
equal difficulty. So--with all my zeal--I am between two grindstones. My
father joined the Civil. He was keen. He did well. But--no promotion;