"Not yet," said Mrs. Hauksbee to Mrs. Mallowe. "Not yet. I must wait until the
man is properly dressed, at least. Great Heavens, is it possible that he
doesn't know what an honor it is to be taken up by Me!"
Mrs. Hauksbee did not reckon false modesty as one of her failings.
"Always with Mrs. Hauksbee!" murmured Mrs. Mallowe, with her sweetest smile,
to Otis. "Oh you men, you men! Here are our Punjabis growling because you've
monopolized the nicest woman in Simla. They'll tear you to pieces on the Mall,
some day, Mr. Yeere."
Mrs. Mallowe rattled down-hill, having satisfied herself, by a glance through
the fringe of her sunshade, of the effect of her words.
The shot went home. Of a surety Otis Yeere was somebody in this bewildering
whirl of Simla--had monopolized the nicest woman in it and the Punjabis were
growling. The notion justified a mild glow of vanity. He had never looked upon
his acquaintance with Mrs. Hauksbee as a matter for general interest.
The knowledge of envy was a pleasant feeling to the man of no account. It was
intensified later in the day when a luncher at the Club said, spitefully,
"Well, for a debilitated Ditcher, Yeere, you are going it. Hasn't any kind
friend told you that she's the most dangerous woman in Simla?"
Yeere chuckled and passed out.
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