Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than
Amdberan! Where's your horse?
CAPT. G. (Furiously, seeing that the women are out of an earshot.)
Where the-is my Wife?
CAPT. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You'll have to ride
like Young Lochinvar.
Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him.
CAPT. G. Oh you will, will you? Get 'round, you brute-you
hog-you beast! Get round!
Wrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lower jaw: swings
himself into saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a
spattering gale of Best Patna.
CAPT. M. For your life and your love-ride, Gaddy -And God bless
you!
Throws half a pound of rice at G. who disappears, bowed forward
on the saddle, in a cloud of sun-lit dust.
CAPT. M. I've lost old Gaddy. (Lights cigarette and strolls off,
singing absently):-
"You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on his card,
That a young man married is a young man marred!"
Miss DEERCOURT. (From her horse.) Really, Captain Mafflin!
You are more plain spoken than polite!
CAPT. M. (Aside.) They say marriage is like cholera. 'Wonder
who'll be the next victim.
White satin slipper slides from his sleeve and falls at his feet.
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