He saw the Eurasian girls prinked out in their best frocks to lure into marriage some unwary Englishman.

And again it was Colonel Dewes, the man who had lost his place amongst his own people, even as he, Shere Ali, had himself.

A half-contemptuous smile of pity for a moment softened the hard lines of his mouth as he thought upon that forlorn and elderly man taking his loneliness with him into Cashmere.
"That shall not be my way," he said aloud, and the lines of his mouth hardened again.

And once more before his eyes rose the vision of Violet Oliver.
Ahmed Ismail had risen to his feet and stood watching his Prince with eager, anxious eyes.

Shere Ali crossed to the table and turned down the lamp, which was smoking.