had used to do in and out of his office. The room
where he sat amid his papers and books was a rallying place because
the strong will and personality of the man in the wheeled chair made
it so.

"He's been meaning for years to do a series of guerrilla articles a
magazine has wanted of him, and now he's at them," said Harriet, "and
he has given in this far, in his stiff-necked pride, that he's bought
an interest in the paper for me, and it keeps him in touch and
absorbed."

The Major had been watching Alexina. At the end of several days'
observations he leaned back in his chair and addressed her. His eyes
were humorous. "There's an encouraging promise about you, Alexina," he
informed her. Then he caressed his lean chin with his lean, smooth
hand. "A promise that gives me hope. You've laughed at my jokes since
you've been here, and not from mere politeness either. Now, Harriet
smiles out of the goodness of her heart because she thinks she ought
to."

But he caught at Harriet's hand even while they all three laughed, for
it was patent to everybody that Harriet had no idea what his jokes
were about, which was the amusing thing of all, seeing that it was the
Major's humour that she confessed had attracted her.

And yet the eyes of the man often deepened and glowed as he watched
her move about the house, for she made even the trivial duties seem
beautiful because of her unconscious earnestness and her joy in their
doing.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On the return to Aden, that last hour on the train, Alexina was
trembling. She was glad, glad to be back, yet of the actual moment of
arrival she was afraid.

It was Peter, and alone, who met her at the station with the
wagonette. The high ecstasy of her shrinking fell like collapsing
walls beneath her. Life was grey, level, flat.

"Mrs. Garnier's po'ly this mornin'," Pete told her as they drove
homeward. "Mis' Cha'lotte wouldn't leave her to come, and Mr. Willy,
he's been gone for a week now, down to the grasswater with a pahty of
gen'l'men, as guide."

She felt strangely tired and quiet. It was going to be hard to seem
as glad to be back as she ought. Yet the world, as they drove out to
Nancy, was rioting in bud, and new leaf and bloom. Magnolias were
uplifting giant ivory cups of heavy sweetness; every tree-trunk, rail
and stump bore a clambering weight of yellow jasmine bloom; the
tai-tai drooped pendulous fringes of faintest fragrance, and wild
convolvulus ran rio