tion," he said decisively.
"It's splendid of you even to think of coming down. But it would be
unpardonable in me to allow it, so be a sensible woman and put the
notion out of your head, once for all. You know you could never bear
to leave little Paul when it came to the point."

"I could . . . I could. Oh, Theo, don't be unreasonable over this."

"The unreasonableness is yours, my dear. If this is going to be bad,
we may all be off into camp before the week's out."

"Well, then, Frank would take me in . . . and at least I should be on
the spot--in case . . . Oh, Theo, I _must_ come! Why on earth
shouldn't I be there just as much as Frank, and that little missionary
woman, Mrs Peters?"

"Frank" Olliver, a Major's wife, was the only other woman in the
regiment, and hill stations were not (as she would have expressed it)
"in her line." But Desmond was immovable.

"That's quite another matter. Being there already, they naturally
wouldn't desert their post. But you are here, thank God, safe out of
it all; and I must insist on your remaining here, if it's only for my
sake." A half smile dispelled the gravity of his face. "I've a notion
that when you married me you promised, among other things, to obey me!"

"Well, I was driven to. It was the only way to get you. But I'm sure
most of us make that promise with mental reservations. In certain
cases I should not dream of obeying you, Theo, and this is one!"

"But if I flatly refuse to take you with me?"

"I suppose I should have to follow on alone."

He looked at her straightly for a moment. Then: "I don't think you
would deliberately defy me, Honor," he said in a level tone. "I
couldn't put up with that, even from you."

There was a short silence. She saw that in direct opposition to his
will she could go no further. But the woman who loves, and knows
herself beloved, has subtler weapons at command. Setting her two hands
upon his shoulders, and bringing her beautiful face very close to his,
Honor returned her husband's look with a smile so mutely beseeching,
that his fortitude, already undermined by the news from Dera, began to
waver, and she saw it.

"My very dearest," she said, on a low note of tenderness, "of course I
would never defy you. But don't break my heart by pushing me on one
side, and leaving me up here alone, idle, anxious, when there is real
work--woman's work--waiting to be done down there. I'm as strong as a
church, you know th