Seems, owing to my dad's reputation, these Rangars think me a sort of reincarnation of efficiency.

I've got to try and live up to it, you know--same old game of reaping what you didn't sow and hoping it'll all be over before you wake up! Won't you try and get some sleep before morning?
No?
Come and sit over by the parapet with me, then." He carried chairs for both of them to a point whence he could sit and watch the track that led to Howrah and so help out the very meagre garrison.

There, until the waning moon dipped down below the sky-line, they talked together--first about the task ahead of each of them; then about the sudden ghastliness of the rebellion, whose extent not one of them could really grasp as yet; last, and much longest, as familiarity gradually grew between them, of youthful reminiscences and home--of Eton and the Isle of Skye.
In the darkness and the comparative coolness that came between the setting of the moon and dawn Rosemary fell asleep, her head pillowed in her father's lap.

For a while, then, seeing her only dimly through the night, but conscious, as he could not help being, of her youth and charm and of the act of self-sacrifice that she had undertaken without remonstrance, he felt ashamed.

He began to wonder whether there might not have been some other way--whether he had any right, even for his country's sake, to send a girl on such a mission.