for now. One never seems allowed to enjoy one's self in peace. D'you
want more music, or--would you prefer whist?"

"I'm to cut in, and leave Richardson free. Is that it?"

The blush that still burned in her cheeks spread slowly over her neck
to the soft lace at her breast; and the man felt that in his momentary
vexation he had struck too hard. Then her eyes flashed fire into his.

"Major Desmond, if you begin saying things like that to me--I shall
_hate_ you."

"No, Quita. It'll never be that between us. I apologise. But you
know I care immensely for your husband, and it angers me to see
you--apparently indifferent . . ."

"Indifferent? How _dare_ you . . . ?" she breathed low and
passionately, her breath coming in small gasps.

"I understand. But I'm not sorry I roused you.--Here comes Honor. I
know she wants to get home early. Good-night to you. Am I forgiven?"

"No. But you will be--to-morrow morning. I believe one could forgive
you almost anything."

"I'll not be base enough to take advantage of such a generous
admission," he answered, smiling and grasping her hand.

Lenox, with a keen glance at his wife's face, followed the Desmonds
into the verandah, and helped Honor into her seat.

"You'll keep your promise, won't you?" she pleaded. "And go straight
to bed without even looking into your study. Never mind if the lamp
burns there all night. You can charge me for the kerosene!"

"That's a bargain then," he answered, laughing. "It's like old times
to have _you_ laying commands on me again!"

"Not only to-night, remember: a whole week of nights and more."

"Trust me. I have promised. Good-night, Mrs Desmond, and thank you."

As the dog-cart turned into the open road, Honor spoke: "Theo, if she
lets him go to pieces again . . . I shall never, never forgive her."

There was a break in her low voice, and Desmond slipping a hand through
her arm, pressed it close against him.

"You dear blessed woman, no fear of that. She cares,--with all her
heart. But there are faults and difficulties on both sides; and I'm
afraid they have still a lot of rough ground to get over before they
settle into their stride."

And Quita, the perverse, Quita, the inconsistent, cried herself to
sleep that night upon her husband's shoulder.

CHAPTER XXX

"Hearts are like horses; they come and go without whip or spur."
--_Native Proverb_.

"Only ten minutes more; a bare ten minutes. T