The Devil's Cocktail by Alexander Wilson

‘That’s some familiarity for you!’
    Hugh and Joan laughed.
    â€˜I don’t mind what you call me,’ said the former.
    â€˜Well, I’m glad of that. My tongue has a bad habit of saying things it shouldn’t at times. Are you sure you won’t come along, Miss Shannon, and let us find a little corner somewhere?’
    â€˜Quite, thanks!’
    â€˜Can I send you along a drink?’
    She shook her head.
    â€˜No, thank you!’
    â€˜It surprises me how anyone can get along in this climate without an almighty thirst,’ he said. ‘Come along, Mr Shannon!’
    He swept off his hat and bowed to Joan. Then taking Hugh by the arm, he led him unerringly in the direction of the smoking room. Joan watched them go with a smile, and then returned to her contemplation of the scenery.
    The two men settled themselves in a corner of the smoking room under a fan, and ordered drinks. For some minutes the American was busy greeting acquaintances – he appeared to be a well-known figure, and quite a third of the men in the room seemed to have met him at some time or other. Hugh looked at him in surprise.
    â€˜You seem to be quite popular,’ he remarked. ‘Yet you talk of being lonesome!’
    â€˜Well, I guess that having a number of “how d’you do” acquaintances isn’t calculated to remove one’s lonesomeness,’ smiledthe American. ‘You Britishers are too mighty proud to come out of your shells and get down to real friendliness as a rule, especially those of you who live in India. Say, can you tell me why Europeans in India lose all their charm and naturalness and, in the majority of cases, develop into snobs?’
    Hugh shook his head.
    â€˜I’m afraid I can’t,’ he replied.
    â€˜I guess it’s because they’ve been pampered and spoilt, and taught to regard themselves as little tin gods.’
    â€˜But things are different from what they used to be. From my recollection of India there is very little of the tin-god business there now.’
    â€˜Granted,’ said Miles, ‘but the tradition has been handed down, and the present day Britisher hangs on like grim death to every little bit of flattery and adulation he can get from the natives. And they know his weakness and play up to it, too.’
    â€˜Aren’t you rather too severe, Miles?’
    â€˜I guess not. If I were an artist, and wanted to paint a picture of the Britisher in India, I’d depict a man reclining comfortably on a long cane chair, his feet stretched out luxuriously, a table containing whisky and soda by his side, and a bearer standing by ready to refill his glass as soon as it became empty.’
    Hugh laughed.
    â€˜That sounds rather decadent,’ he said.
    â€˜It is. And your woman-folk are worse. They have nothing to do, no interests at all but tennis and visiting, and the result is that a whole lot of them spend their time scandalmongering, and lose all their charm, or most of it.’ He shook his head solemnly. ‘India is sure a bad place for women – it’s a mighty good thing that they have a safety valve, even if it is so poor a thing as talking scandal.’
    He took a long drink.
    â€˜It’s a strange thing,’ he went on, ‘that those women who do retain their natural characters, and mind you, there are some, just stand out and scintillate.’
    â€˜Naturally that would be because they are so refreshing after the others,’ said Hugh.
    â€˜Sure! If you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Shannon is the sort of girl who would never lose her charm under any circumstances.’
    â€˜I’m sure she wouldn’t,’ said Hugh warmly.
    â€˜I’ve got to tell you that you possess one of the sweetest sisters who ever went to India, and you’ll have a hard job to keep the rotters from her. The men’ll be after her like bees round a honeypot.’
    â€˜I know