told me at Lahore?"

Her answer seemed an eternity in coming; for a plain 'yes' or 'no' were
equally far from the truth. This boy of four-and-twenty gave her the
restful sense of reliance and reserve force that she so missed in
Maurice. But there was no art, no thrill in his love-making. It was
direct and simple as himself. He never struck a chord of emotion and
left it quivering, as Maurice had done many times.

"May I?"--he persisted gently.

"I still think you are . . . the best man I know," she admitted, without
looking at him; and he flushed to the roots of his hair.

"But not the one you--care for most? It's that that matters, you know."

"Oh, I can't tell--truly I can't," she pleaded distressfully.

"Then I must just go on waiting."

"I wish you wouldn't even do that."

"I can only prevent it by putting a bullet through my head."

The quiet finality of his tone was more convincing than volumes of
protestations; and she shuddered.

"Don't say such things, please.--You hurt me."

"I wouldn't do that for a kingdom. But it's the truth.--I go down on the
fifteenth, you know."

"Yes.--I'm sorry."

"Are you? Then why--oh, I don't understand you!" he broke off in despair.

"I'm not sure that I understand myself--yet. It takes time, I suppose."

"Not when the right chap turns up, I fancy. But I'll give you as much
time as you want. I have a year's leave due. Shall I take it, and go
home?"

She looked rueful.

"A year is a long time. But perhaps that would be best. You might
find--some one else there, who understood herself better."

"That's out of the question," he answered almost harshly.

"But at all events,--I'll go."

A prolonged silence followed this statement: and when he spoke again, it
was of other things. Elsie followed suit: but the result was not
brilliant. She endured the strain as long as she could; then inventing
an excuse, she left him; though, to her surprise, it hurt her more than
she could have believed a week ago.

That afternoon, during the progress of a hybrid gymkhana,--ranging from
steeplechasing to obstacle races for men and natives,--the first whisper
of current gossip reached Lenox's ears.

Standing behind a restless row of hats and parasols, he was watching with
some interest the preliminary canter of a horse he had backed heavily,
when Garth and Quita, deep in animated talk, passed across the line of
chairs, and a woman close to Lenox turned to her nei