e.

"Rather. I was born there. North-West Frontier. My name's Desmond. We
all belong there. I was out till seven and a half, and I'll go back like
a bird directly I'm through with Marlborough."

He spoke very quietly; but under the quietness Roy guessed there was
purpose--there was fire. This boy knew exactly what he meant to do in
his grown-up life--that large, vague word crowded with exciting
possibilities. He stood there, straight as an arrow, looking out to sea;
and straight as an arrow he would make for his target when school and
college let go their hold. Something of this Roy dimly apprehended: and
his interest was tinged with envy. If they all 'belonged,' were they
Indians, he wondered; and decided not, because of Desmond's coppery
brown hair. He wanted to understand--to hear more. He almost forgot he
was at school.

"We belong too----" he ventured shyly; and Desmond turned with a
kindling eye.

"Good egg! What Province?"

"Rajputana."

"Oh--miles away. Which service?"

Roy looked puzzled. "I--don't know You see--it's my mother--that
belongs. My grandfather's a Minister in a big Native State out there."

"Oh--I say!"

There was a shadow of change in his tone. His direct look was a little
embarrassing. He seemed to be considering Roy in a new light.

"I--I wouldn't have thought it," he said; and added a shade too
quickly: "_We_ don't belong--that way. We're all Anglo-Indians--Frontier
Force." (Clearly a fine thing to be, thought Roy, mystified, but
impressed.) "Is your father in the Political?"

More conundrums! But, warmed by Desmond's friendliness, Roy grew bolder.

"No. He hates politics. He's just--just a gentleman."

Desmond burst out laughing.

"Top hole! He couldn't do better than that. But--if your mother--he must
have been in India?"

"Afterwards--they went. I've been too. He found Mother in France. He
painted her. He's a rather famous painter."

"What name?"

"Sinclair."

"Oh, I've heard of him.--And your people are always at home. Lucky
beggar!" He was silent a moment watching Roy unlace his boot. Then he
asked suddenly, in a voice that tried to sound casual: "I say--have you
told any of the other boys--about India--and your Mother?"

"No--why? Is there any harm?" Roy was on the defensive at once.

"Well--no. With the right sort, it wouldn't make a scrap of difference.
But you can see what some of 'em are like--Bennet Ma. and his crew.
Making a dead set at that poor blighter,