"Dear child, don't look so freezingly aloof!" she had been entreated
more than once; and each time the soft injunction had reached her the
wide dark eyes had taken to themselves a more utter disdain.
If she looked freezing, she was far from feeling it, for the hot
weather was at its height, and Ghawalkhand, though healthy, was not
the coolest spot in the Indian Empire. Sir Reginald Bassett had been
appointed British Resident, to act as adviser to the young rajah
thereof, and there had been no question of a flitting to Simla that
year. Lady Bassett had deplored this, but Muriel rejoiced. She never
wanted to see Simla again.
Life was a horrible emptiness to her in those days. She was weary
beyond expression, and had no heart for the gaieties in which she was
plunged. Idle compliments had never attracted her, and flirtations
were an abomination to her. She looked through and beyond them with
the eyes of a sphinx. But there were very few who suspected the
intolerable ache that throbbed unceasingly behind her impassivity--the
loneliness of spirit that oppressed her like a crushing, physical
weight.
Even Bobby Fraser, who saw most things, could scarcely have been aware
of this; yet certainly it was not the vivacity of her conversation
that induced him to seek her out as he generally did when he saw
her sitting apart.
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