talked to her of, but indeed the life in Hong-Kong sounded quite jolly; there were clubs and tennis and racing and polo and golf.
“Do people dance much there?”
“Oh, yes, I think so.”
She wondered whether he told her these things with a motive. He seemed to like her society, but never by a pressure of the hand, by a glance or by a word, did he give the smallest indication that he looked upon her as anything but a girl whom you met and danced with. On the following Sunday he came again to their house. Her father happened to come in, it was raining and he had not been able to play golf, and he and Walter Fane had a long chat. She asked her father afterwards what they had talked of.
“It appears he’s stationed in Hong-Kong. The Chief Justice is an old friend of mine at the Bar. He seems an unusually intelligent young man.”
She knew that her father was as a rule bored to death by the young people whom for her sake and now her sister’s he had been forced for years to entertain.
“It’s not often you like any of my young men, father,” she said.
His kind, tired eyes rested upon her.
“Are you going to marry him by any chance?”
“Certainly not.”
“Is he in love with you?”
“He shows no sign of it.”
“Do you like him?”
