The house was very still; there was only the faint
crackling of the logs on the fire.
"We had a fear," he said. "It remains!"
The girl went over and stood before the fire, her foot on the
brass fender, her fingers linked behind her back. For sometime
she was silent. Finally she spoke, without turning her head, in
a low voice.
"You know Lord Eckhart?"
A strange expression passed over the Oriental's face.
"Yes, when Lhassa was entered, the Head moved north to our
monastery on the edge of the Gobi - the English sovereignty
extends to the Kahn line. Lord Eckhart was the political agent
of the English government in the province nearest to us."
When the girl got up, the Oriental also rose. He stood
awkwardly, his body stooped; his hand as for support resting on
the corner of the table. The girl spoke again, in the same
posture. Her face toward the fire.
"How do you feel about Lord Eckhart?"
"Feel!" The man repeated the word.
He hesitated a little.
"We trusted Lord Eckhart. We have found all English honorable."
"Lord Eckhart is partly German," the girl went on.
The man's voice in reply was like a foot-note to a discourse.
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