“Mr. Isaacs,” said she, “you have often promised to sing something Persian for us.  Will you not keep your word now?”

“When we are among the tigers, Miss Westonhaugh, next week.  Then I will try and borrow a lute and sing you something.”

It was late for an Indian dinner-party, so we took our departure soon afterwards, having agreed to meet the following afternoon at Annandale for the game of polo, in which Westonhaugh said he would also play.  He and Isaacs made some appointment for the morning; they seemed to be very sympathetic to each other.  Kildare mounted and rode homeward with us, though he had much farther to go than we.  If he felt any annoyance at the small successes Isaacs had achieved during the evening, he was far too courteous a gentleman to show it; and so, as we groped our way through the trees by the starlight, chiefly occupied in keeping our horses on their legs, the snatches of conversation that were possible were pleasant, if not animated, and there was a cordial “Good-night” on both sides, as we left Kildare to pursue his way alone.

* * * * *

CHAPTER VIII.

It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon when Isaacs and I emerged from the narrow road upon the polo ground.  We were clad in the tight-fitting garments which are necessary for the game, and wrapped in light top-coats; as we came out on the green we saw a number of other men in similar costume standing about, and a great many native grooms leading ponies up and down.  Miss Westonhaugh was there in her gray habit and broad hat, and by her side, on foot, Lord Steepleton Kildare was making the most of his time, as he waited for the rest of the players.  Mr. Currie Ghyrkins was ambling about on his broad little horse, and John Westonhaugh stood with his hands in his pockets and a large Trichinopoli cheroot between his lips, apparently gazing into space.  Several other men, more or less known to us and to each other, moved about or chatted disconnectedly, and one or two arrived after us.  Some of them wore coloured jerseys that showed brightly over the open collars of their coats, others were in ordinary dress and had come to see the game.  Farther off, at one side of the ground, one or two groups of ladies and their escorting cavaliers haunted at a short distance by their saices in many-coloured turbans and belts, or cummer-bunds, as the sash is called in India, moved slowly about, glancing from time to time towards the place where the players and their ponies were preparing for the contest.