In the meanwhile Dominga and Captain Fielder lounged on a
bench--conspicuously aloof from the crowd. A somewhat constrained
silence had fallen between them; he was wondering if this handsome
girl, with talking eyes and vivid expression, was "good fun"? She
was meditating as to whether she might treat him as just a common,
every-day officer, or not? Dom had finally made up her mind--as she
looked up quickly and met his full, bold stare, a stare so prolonged
and searching that another girl would have felt affronted and abashed;
not so Dominga.
"Well?" she asked, raising her eyebrows interrogatively. "Now, tell me
candidly, what do you think of them?"
"Er--think of what?" he stammered, obviously a little startled.
"My eyes--what else?" said the girl, with disconcerting bravado.
"Oh--by Jove! they are splendid. Er--I was not quite sure of the colour
five minutes ago. I'd have sworn they were black; now I see they are
greenish brown----"
"And in another five minutes they may be a greyish blue--one thing I
can promise, they are never red."
"Do you never cry? Oh, come now! Every woman cries."
"Pray, why should I cry?" she asked, with a touch of defiance.
"But you must have some sort of escape for your feelings?"
"Not necessarily. I have no feelings."
"Then you are one of the sights of India! What more uncommon than
a woman who has eyes like a chameleon, who never cries, and has no
feelings? You are a marvel, Miss Chandos!"
"But I am not really Miss Chandos. I am only number four, and I am
called Dominga."
"Good heavens--what a name! Where _did_ they find it?"
"In foreign parts. My grandfather--was Portuguese."
"Have you no pet name--at home?"
"They call me 'Dom'--when we are by ourselves."
"Er--may I call you 'Dom'--when we are by ourselves?" As he spoke
Captain Fielder hitched himself an inch nearer and assumed his most
insinuating expression.
"This seat is intended for two," she remarked, giving him a little tap
with her parasol. "If you want the whole of it, please say so. As to
calling me 'Dom,'--we shall never be by ourselves again----"
"Pray why not? Don't you like me?" he asked pathetically.
"Because," ignoring the second question, "I am not in society."
"Then I am sorry for society. Why do you call yourself an outsider?"
"We are--only the sugar people!"
"Er-r, now I understand my sensations, the instant I saw you; you
looked too sweet for words!"
"Don't be silly, and please don't run away with the idea that I am
either soft or sweet. I leave that sort of thing to Pussy and Verona."
"Verona, is a town--Dominga, I _think_, is an island; Has your mother a
craze for geography?"
"Verona's name is really Veronica."
"Why have you such--curious names?"
"Can't you guess?" she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her
eyes.
Her companion shook his head in hopeless ignorance.
"Then I will tell you, and when you know us better you will see how
well our names fit! We are called after two saints!"
Captain Fielder's broad grin and incredulous wink went a long way in
advancing his intimacy with this lively companion.
"Now, tell me, why are you so down on yourself? It's a mistake--you
should leave that sort of thing to other people--they do it so _much_
better. You said you were not sweet, and that you have no feelings. I
am sure you were wrong."
"No----"
"Er--well, I won't take your word for it; I mean to find out for
myself."
"You will not have the opportunity. After to-day the station
ladies--who are very jealous of me----"
"By Jove, I don't wonder at that!" he interpolated with decision.
"Will fence you in--with barbed wire!"
"Oh--will they?" with a derisive laugh. "It is not very easy to keep
Jimmy Fielder in bounds! Ask papa?"
"See--they are all staring over here now," and she pointed with her
parasol. "They are ready to tear my eyes out."
"I'll take care of your beautiful and matchless eyes. You just leave
them to me."
"I can take pretty good care of myself, thank you. What do you think of
Rajahpore, Captain Fielder?"
"I adore it already."
"What a ridiculous answer. Why?"
"Because it has made me acquainted with you."
"How can you be so silly?"
"I was born so. Tell me, how do _you_ put in your time here?"
"Oh--I sing a good deal, I have a wonderful voice--and I bicycle,
and--I read--and play tennis."
"Can you read--French?"
"Why, of course."
"Then I can lend you some ripping novels!"
"No, thank you," rather stiffly; assume a virtue if you have it not.
Dom had once laboured through a few French exercises, and could no more
read a page than ride a steeplechase.
But Jimmy was promptly taken in, and impressed.
"Proper, good little girl! Well, I must confess--some of them--are--a
bit--strong."
"You would not lend them to your sisters, I presume?" adopting her
well-known quarrelsome attitude, "though you offer them to _me_."
"Oh, I've no sisters, thank the Lord! As to offering the books--you
might have jumped at them. I did not know what sort you were. You see,
a fellow never can tell----"
"I see Verona looking this way. She is coming to fetch me----"
"Er--is she your keeper? Has she got you on the chain?"
"No; I should pity her if she had!"
"Then you and I are in sympathy--a pair of bold, independent spirits.
When shall I see you again--Dom?"
"Perhaps to-morrow at the Club."
"Oh, so you come to the Club. Hurrah!"
"Yes, for books and tennis; but we are complete outsiders, as you will
soon discover."
"You will never be an outsider to me, Dom--already you have your
place----"
"What do you mean?" she demanded. "What place?"
"Only the box seat in my heart."
"Heart!" she repeated with a scornful laugh. "No one talks of hearts in
these days--except the heroes of stories in penny magazines."
As she spoke Dominga rose, and drew herself to her full height. She was
two inches taller than Jimmy, who gazed at her in profound admiration.
Yes; already he was caught and enthralled by her audacity and
insolence, and entangled in the meshes of her splendid burnished hair.
"Dom," said Verona as she joined her, "it is past six o'clock, and we
must be going home."
"Very well," assented Dominga, "I am ready." But she did not attempt
to make her sister and "Jimmy" known to one another. No, she would
not share the captive of her bow and spear--that is to say, eye and
tongue--she was determined to keep him exclusively to herself. (Dom
knew what girls did, being a most daring and successful poacher!)
Jimmy stared at this Miss Chandos, who looked and spoke like a
well-bred English lady, and yet was Dominga's own sister. What did
it mean? Dom, with all her charm, spoke with a quaint, half-foreign
accent, and her manners decidedly lacked the repose which stamped the
caste of Vere de Vere, whilst Verona--the other girl, "the slow one,"
as he already classed her, was Vere de Vere--and no mistake!
As Dominga crossed the polo ground attended by her new slave, she
tossed her head and flounced her skirts, and glared at spectators as
much as to say, "Don't you wish you were in my shoes?" When she stepped
into the victoria she leant forward, and smiled with cruel exultation
at the Watkins and the Trotters--they could not fail to have seen "the
Honourable" tucking the dust cover over her knees. They knew that _she_
had got into society at last!
As Dominga was driven homewards her body was unquestionably in the
shabby victoria, but her mind was in the seventh heaven!
"He" had chosen her out from among all the women in the station. "He"
had called her "Dom," and, at parting, had given her fingers a fierce,
emphatic squeeze, from the effects of which they were still tingling!