The girl's colour deepened, but her eyes dwelt on him coldly.
"I have only been thinking how fortunate you are, and seeing pictures in my mind of what you will see which will be new to you--and--and remembering." "Oh! of course, I am lucky, tremendously lucky," he hastened to declare, laughing a little wryly.

"Such a journey is a liberal education in itself, knocking the insularity out of a man--if he has any receptive faculty that is--and ridding him of all manner of stodgy prejudices.

I don't the least undervalue my good fortune .-- But you talk of remembering.
That's stretching a point surely.

You must have been a mere baby, my dear Damaris, when you left India." "No, I was six years old, and I remember quite well.

All my caring for people, all my thinking, begins there, in the palace of the Sultan-i-bagh at Bhutpur and the great compound, when my father was Chief Commissioner." Her snub duly delivered, and she secure it had gone home, Damaris unbent, graciously communicative as never before.
"It was all so beautiful and safe there inside the high walls, and yet a teeny bit frightening because you knew there were other things--as there are to-day--which you felt but couldn't quite see all about you.
Sometimes they nearly pushed through--I was always expecting and I like to expect.