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Updated: June 6, 2025
She told him a little about it, incidentally mentioning Will Musgrave. "Oh, I know him," he broke in. "An engineer, isn't he? Awfully clever chap. I met him years ago at Sharapura the time Nick Ratcliffe won the Great Mogul's Cup. I told you that story, didn't I?" Yes, he had done so. She informed him of the fact with an immovable face. It might have been a subject of total indifference to her.
"I believe under the circumstances few women would have said the same. Tell me! Did I hear a rumour that you are going out to India yourself very shortly?" She nodded. "I have almost promised to go," she said. "I have a married sister at Sharapura. I wrote to her of my engagement, and she wrote back, begging me to go to her if I could.
By the way, Wyndham, did I mention to you that Sharapura is the name of the place we are going to? It's quite an interesting corner of the Empire, and declared by medical experts to be a top-hole neighbourhood for studying malaria." "Is that a recommendation?" asked Max grimly. Nick's smile was geniality itself. "It is," he answered; "a very strong recommendation." He thrust out a friendly hand.
They flowed as easily as water from a fountain. Their source seemed inexhaustible. He never repeated himself to the same person. Muriel declined his offer of more tea. For some reason she wanted to hear more of the man who had won the Great Mogul's Cup at Sharapura. Bobby was more than willing to oblige. "Oh, it was sheer cheek that carried him through, of course.
Impulsive as always, he lifted his sword and kissed the hilt with reverence. "So help me, God!" he swore. It was not the same Olga who went back into the busy little Anglo-Indian community at Sharapura after the breaking of her engagement, though it was only those intimate with her who marked the change.
I kept on saying 'Can't! and 'Won't! But that didn't make the least difference. Old Reggie Bassett's doing, I'll lay a wager. He will have it that my genius is thrown away in England. And they inform me rather brutally that my seat in Parliament would be far more easily filled than this Sharapura post. Also the young Rajah has done me the honour to ask for me.
Very quiet by day was that long dark tract of jungle, but at night strange voices awoke there that seemed to Olga like the crying of unquiet spirits. Neither by day nor night did she feel the smallest desire to explore it. The native city of Sharapura held infinitely greater fascinations for her. Some of its buildings were beautiful, and she was keenly interested in its inhabitants.
Olga had chosen a dress of palest mauve, and very fair and delicate she looked in it. In a crowd of girls she would doubtless have been passed over by all but the most observant, but she was not one of a crowd at Sharapura. There were not many girls in that region, or Noel Wyndham's volatile fancy had scarcely strayed in her direction.
"Oh, how I wish I were a man! I'd come with you." "Ladies are admitted," said Nick. "Ah! I wonder what Muriel will say," she said. "Does she like India?" "India is a large place," he pointed out. "She doesn't like Ghawalkhand, and she isn't keen on Simla which is sheer prejudice on her part. Sharapura she has never seen. It's a small State in the very middle of the Empire.
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