“Engaged?  What—­to marry him?  Good gracious, no!” exclaimed the astonished girl, half rising from her chair.

“Will you tell me frankly—­have you any intention of marrying him?” he persisted.

Noreen stared at him, her cheeks flaming.

“Marry Mr. Chunerbutty?  Of course not.  How could you think so!  Why, he’s not even a white man.”

“Thank God!” Payne exclaimed fervently.  “I’m delighted to hear it.  I couldn’t believe it—­yet one never knows.”

“But what on earth put such a preposterous idea into your head, Mr. Payne?” asked Noreen.  “And what has this got to do with Mrs. Rice?”

“Because Mrs. Rice said that you were engaged to Chunerbutty.”

For a moment Noreen could find no words.  Then she leaned forward, her eyes flashing.

“Oh, how could she—­how could she think so?”

“Perhaps she didn’t.  But she wanted us to.  She said that you had told her you were engaged to him, but wanted it kept secret for the present.  So naturally she told everyone.”

“Told everyone that I was going to marry a native?  Oh, how cruel of her!  How could she be so wicked!” exclaimed the girl, much distressed.  Then she added:  “Did you believe it?”

Payne shook his head.

“Candidly, child, I didn’t know what to think.  I hoped it wasn’t true.  But of late that damned Bengali seemed so intimate with you.  He apparently wanted everyone to see on what very friendly terms you and he were.”

“Did Major Dermot believe it too?”

“I don’t know,” said Payne doubtfully.  “Dermot’s not the fellow to talk about women.  He’s never mentioned you.”

“But how do you know that Mrs. Rice said such a thing?  Did she tell you?”

“No; she knows that I am your friend, and I daresay she was afraid to tell me such a lie.  But she told others.”

He turned in his chair and called to a young fellow standing near the bar of the club.

“I say, Travers, do you mind coming here a moment?  Pull up a chair and sit down.”

Travers was a straight, clean-minded boy, one of those of their community whom Noreen liked best, and she had felt hurt at his marked avoidance of her all the afternoon.

“Look here, youngster,” said Payne in a low voice, “did Mrs. Rice tell you that Miss Daleham was engaged to Chunerbutty?”

Travers looked at him in surprise.

“Yes.  I told you so the other day.  She said that Miss Daleham had confided to her that they were engaged, but wanted it kept secret for a time until he could get another job.”

“Then, my boy, you’ll be pleased to hear it’s a damned lie,” said Payne impressively.  “Miss Daleham would never marry a black man.”

The boy’s face lit up.

“I am glad!” he cried impulsively.  “I’m very, very sorry, Miss Daleham, for helping to spread the lie.  But I only told Payne.  I knew he was a friend of yours, and I hoped he’d be able to contradict the yarn.  For I felt very sick about it.”