"'The Sultan' isn't awful. You know it was all a mistake on his part.

Besides, nothing will keep me from 'diving headlong into danger,' as you call it, when I see things being hurt. It's all part of my silly, impetuous nature."

"Well, I hope the man was grateful."

"He never even thanked me."

Such gross ingrat.i.tude left Miss Grainger aghast.

"My dear!" she exclaimed.

"He thought I was a boy, and when he found I was a girl he was too astonished to remember his manners," Pansy explained. "But don't say anything about it to anybody. You know I hate a fuss."

"What was he like?"

"Big and dark and awfully good-looking, with an arrogant, high-handed manner. He badly needed taking down a peg or two."

"Quite different from Captain Cameron," Miss Grainger suggested.

"Oh, quite. Bob's a kid beside him."

There was a brief pause.

Miss Grainger glanced at the girl.

"Do you know, Pansy, I'm sorry for Captain Cameron."

"So am I," the girl replied, a touch of distress in her voice. "But my sorrow refuses to blossom into love."

"He's a very good sort."

"I know; but then I'm not given to falling in love."

"Some day you'll find yourself in love before you know it."

Pansy smiled at her old governess in a merry, whole-hearted fashion.

"What a persistent bird of ill-omen you are!" she said.

Then she glanced at the clock.

"Now I'm off. I shan't be back for lunch. So-long," she finished.

She went, leaving Miss Grainger with the feeling of a fresh, sweet breeze having been wafted through the room.

CHAPTER VI

In the large palm-decked patio of the hotel, Le Breton sat sipping coffee as he went through the newspapers solicitous waiters had placed on a table at his elbow. It was not often he came to the hotel, but when he did the whole staff was at his disposal, for he scattered largess with a liberal hand. He had lunched there, his gaze wandering over the crowded dining-room as if in search of someone; and afterwards he had stayed on.

It was now about three in the afternoon, an hour when the patio was practically deserted.

As he sat there reading, Pansy entered the big hall, still in breeches and leggings, just as she had returned from her ride. She would have pa.s.sed through the patio without coming within his vision, except that something about the smooth black head was familiar.

So she changed her route and went in Le Breton's direction instead.

"Have you gotten over your disappointment?" she asked.

In an unperturbed manner he looked round. Then he got to his feet leisurely, surveying the slim, boyish figure with disapproval.

Pansy stood with her hands deep in her pockets, smiling at him, a smile that deepened under his lack of appreciation of her attire.

"What disappointment?" he asked.

"Of finding I was a girl you had to be polite to instead of a boy you could bully."

"I'm inclined to go back to my first impression," he said.

"Don't you like my get-up?"

"Decidedly I do not. Why don't you wear something feminine? Not go about masquerading as a man."

Adverse criticism rarely came Pansy's way.

She laughed.

"What a back number you are! All women ride in breeches nowadays.

But, since you don't approve of me, come along and see if you like 'The Sultan' any better. You were most interested in his mark and seal."

There was an air about her as if she never expected to be gainsaid if she felt like favouring a man, for she turned at once and led the way towards the main entrance.

Picking up his hat, Le Breton followed.

Once outside, he said:

"I've not yet thanked you for saving my life."

"I couldn't do less than lend a hand," she replied with a casual air.

"It was a risky thing to do. I might have dragged you under."

"Well, you didn't. And we're neither of us any the worse for the little adventure."

"I hope we shall be all the better. That we shall be excellent friends," he replied.

Then he drew a leather case from his pocket and held it towards her.