The skin under her chin was as white as the heart of a mangosteen, and the longing to sweep her into his arms was almost irresistible.
A high priest spoke to Kathlyn.
"What does he say ?" she asked.
"That you must marry me." "Tell him that I refuse!" Umballa shrugged and repeated her words.

Here the Council of Three interposed, warning Kathlyn that she must submit to the law as it read.
There was no appeal from it.
"Then I shall appeal to the British Raj." "How ?" asked Umballa urbanely.
Swiftly she stepped to the front of the platform and extended her arms.
It was an appeal.

She pointed to Umballa and shook her head.

Her arms went out again.

A low murmur rippled over the pressing crowd; it grew in volume; and a frown of doubt flitted over Umballa's brow.