days
Aunt Flora seemed to take but a languid interest in life, and her
recovery was strangely tardy and fitful. On some days she was better,
on others worse. Occasionally she would crawl out to the motor, or
appear at dinner, but she looked dreadfully ill, her face so yellow and
wrinkled, her whole appearance unkempt and peculiar. She was also
abstracted and odd in her manner, at times even a little incoherent;
and her eyes had a glazed, fixed expression. Sometimes as Sophy sat in
the darkened room her mind was burdened with vague anxieties; she
recalled the looks and questions of Frau Wurm; could it be altogether
neuralgia that brought her aunt to such a pass? And if not, what? A
casual eye might suppose that the invalid was under the influence of
drink, but this was not the case. Mrs. Krauss was exceedingly
temperate--her favourite stimulant was strong black coffee.

The rains were over and Rangoon was unusually full, and the committee
of the Pegu Club decided to give a dance. This dance was to be the
cheeriest of the season, the secretary had exerted himself to the
utmost, and the great ballroom looked particularly well, all colour and
glow, with splashes of bright shades, a profusion of palms and flowers,
and a reckless prodigality of electric light. Practically everyone was
present, even Herr Krauss, who, on this supreme occasion, had
volunteered to chaperon his niece. The band was playing the newest
waltzes and a varied assortment of Rangoon residents swung over the
polished floor--men well known and otherwise, stout girls of German
ancestry, daughters of judges, and soldiers, princesses of the Burmese
dynasty, and dark-eyed maidens of Anglo-India.

Shafto had only succeeded in securing two dances with Sophy
Leigh--besides the privilege of conducting her to supper. They were
resting in the veranda, after a long, exhausting waltz, watching the
crowd pour out of the ballroom; among others they noticed, approaching
them, Mr. FitzGerald and his partner, Miss Fuchsia Bliss, a little
frail American, who had dropped out of a touring party from the
Philippines, and since then, as she expressed it, "had been staying
around in Rangoon," first at the Lieutenant-Governor's, next at the
Pomeroys', now, with a slight descent in the scale of precedence, with
the Gregorys. She had struck up a demonstrative but sincere friendship
with Sophy Leigh and stood in the forefront of her admirers.

Fuchsia Bliss was an orph