round for a long, long time.

CHAPTER XV

THE SUMMONS

Nick's fit of virtue evaporated with his third letter, and he got
up, feeling that he had spent an unprofitable afternoon. He also
discovered that he was thirsty, and while quenching his thirst he
debated with himself whether he would after all stroll round to the
Musgraves. He and Will were old school-fellows, and the friendship
between them was of the sort that wears forever. He was moreover
dissatisfied with regard to Daisy's appearance, and he wanted to know
the doctor's verdict.

He had just decided to chance his welcome and go, when a note was
brought to him which proved to be from Will himself.

"DEAR OLD NICK," it ran,--"I have been wanting to shake your
hand ever since I heard of your gallant return from the jaws
of death. Well done, old chap, if it isn't a stale sentiment!

"Will you come and dine with us? Do thy diligence, for though
we are neither of us the best of company, we both want you.
The doctor has ordered Daisy and the youngster home. They are
to leave before the _chota-bursat_. Damn the _chota-bursat_,
and the whole beastly show!--Yours ever,

"WILL"

Nick considered this outburst with a sympathetic frown, and at once
despatched an answer in the affirmative. He had almost expected the
news. It had been quite plain to him that Daisy was not making any
progress towards the recovery of her strength. Her quick temperament
would not allow her to be listless, but he had not been deceived. And
he was glad that Will had come up at length to see for himself.

It was horribly unlucky for them both, he reflected, for he knew
that Will could not accompany his wife to England. And the thought
presently flashed across him,--How would it go with him if he ever had
to part with Muriel in that way? Having once possessed her, could
he ever bear to let her go again? Would he not rather relinquish his
profession for her sake, dear though it was to him? He had made her
his own by sheer dogged effort. He had planned for her, fought for
her, suffered for her,--almost he had died for her. Now that she was
his at last, he knew that he could never let her go.

He turned impetuously to a calendar on his writing-table, and ticked
off another day. There were only six left before his wedding-day. He
counted them with almost savage exultation. Finally he tossed down the
pencil with a sudden, quivering laugh, and stood