constantly go to that little hut
of his with intentions, benevolent or otherwise, which I never carry
out.'

'You mean,' she answered, 'that you completely forgot to reveal to him
your hateful knowledge about Kauffer.'

'On the contrary, I didn't forget it for a moment. But the conversation
took a turn that made it quite impossible to mention.'

'I can understand,' Miss Harris replied softly, 'how that might be. And
it doesn't in the least matter,' she went on triumphantly, 'because I've
told him myself.'

My nerves must have been a trifle strung up at the time, for this struck
me as a matter for offense. 'You thought I would trample upon him,' I
exclaimed.

'No, no really. I disliked his not knowing it was known--rien de plus,'
she said lightly.

'What did he say?'

'Oh, not much. What should he say?'

'He might have expressed a decent regret on poor Kauffer's account,' I
growled. Dora did not reply, and a glance showed her frowning.

'I believe he apologized!' I cried, pushing, as it were, my advantage.

'He explained.'

'Oh!'

'Of course he hasn't relished the position, and of course he didn't
realize it before he came. Shall we trot?'

I was compelled to negative the idea of trotting, since we were
descending quite the steepest pitch of the road down to Annandale. We
went on at a walk, and it occurred to me, as my contemplative gaze
fell on my own pig-skins, that we were, even for Simla, an uncommonly
well-turned-out pair. I had helped to pick Dora's hack, and I allowed
myself to reflect that he did my judgment credit. She sat him perfectly
in her wrath--she was plainly angry--not a hair out of place. Why is it
that a lady out of temper with her escort always walks away from him? Is
her horse sympathetic? Ronald, at all events, was leading by a couple of
yards, when suddenly he shied, bounding well across the road.

The mare, whose manners I can always answer for, simply stopped and
looked haughtily about for explanations. A path dropped into the road
from the hillside; something came scrambling and stumbling down.

'Oh!' cried Dora, as it emerged and was Armour on his much enduring
white pony, 'how you frightened us!'

'Why don't you stick to the road, man?' I exclaimed. 'It isn't usual to
put ponies up and down these coolie tracks!'

He took no notice of this rather broad hint that I was annoyed, but
fixed his eager, light, luminous eyes upon Dora.

'I'm sorry,' he said, and added, 'I did