Rose quizzed her cruelly, but
sweetly. "And now _perhaps_ I may get at Roy, who's probably tired and
thirsty after all those hours in the sun."

The Jeremiad revived, at intervals, throughout tiffin; but directly it
was over Rose carried Roy off to her boudoir--her own corner; its
atmosphere as cool and restful as the girl herself, after all the strife
and heat and noise of the city.

They spent a peaceful two hours together. Roy detected no shadow of
constraint in her; and hoped the effect of Thursday had passed off. For
himself--all inner perturbations were charmed away by her tender concern
for the bruised shoulder--a big bruise; she could feel it under his
coat--and the look in her eyes while he told the story of Lance; not
colouring it up, because of what he had said; yet not concealing its
effect on himself.

"He's quite a splendid sort of person," she said, with a little tug at
the string of her circular fan. "But _you_ know all about that."

"Rather."

She drew in her lip and was silent. If he could speak now. In this mood,
he might believe her--might even forgive her....

But it was she who spoke.

"What about--the Kashmir plan?"

"God knows. It's all in abeyance. The Colonel's wedding too."

"Will you be _allowed_--I wonder--to pay me a little visit first?" Her
smile and the manner of her request were irresistible.

"It's just possible!" he returned, in the same vein. "I fancy Lance
would understand."

"Oh--he _would_. And to-morrow--the night train? Can you be there?"

He looked doubtful. "It depends--how things go. And--I rather bar
station partings."

"So do I. But still ... Mother's been clamouring for you to come up with
us and guard the hairs of our heads! But I deftly squashed the idea."

"Bless you, darling!" He drew her close, and she leaned her cheek
against him with a sigh, in which present content and prospective
sadness were strangely mingled. It was in these gentle, pensive moods
that Roy came near to loving her as he had dreamed of loving the girl he
would make his wife.

"I'm still jealous of the Gilgit plan," she murmured. "And, of course, I
wish you were coming up to-morrow--even more than Mother does! But at
least I've the grace to be glad you're not--which is rather an advance
for me!"

Their parting, if less passionate, was more tender than usual; and Roy
rode away with a distinct ache in his heart at thought of losing her; a
nascent reluctance to make mountains out o