"Yes--I'm positive I do.

Good-by." They shook hands again and the three rode off, cantering presently, to make the most of the coolness before the sun got up.

Cunningham climbed slowly up the hill and then watched them from the parapet--wondering, wondering again--whether he was justified.

As he put it to himself, it was "the hell of a position for a man to find himself in!" He caught himself wondering whether his thoughts would have been the same, and whether his conscience would have racked him quite as much, had Rosemary McClean been older, and less lovely, and a little more sour-tongued.
He had to laugh presently at the absurdity of that notion, for Jaimihr would never have bargained for possession of a sour-faced, elderly woman.

He came to the conclusion that the only thing he could do was to congratulate the Raj because, at the right minute, the right good-looking woman had been on the spot! But he did not like the circumstances any better; and before two hours had passed the loneliness began to eat into his soul.
Like any other man whose race and breed and training make him self-dependent, he could be alone for weeks on end and scarcely be aware that he had nobody to talk to.