irits and souls of
those departed men, those ordinary everyday men--whose descendants might
probably be met any day in the Yacht Club now--seemed to surround her in
a great company, all pointing in one direction and with one voice
declaring, "This is the WAY."

Jan fell on her knees and prayed that her stumbling feet might be
guided upon it, that she should in no wise turn aside, however steep and
stony it might prove.

And as she knelt there came upon her the conviction that here was the
true meaning of life as lived upon the earth; just this, that each
should do his job.

CHAPTER VIII

THE END OF THE DREAM

She walked back rather slowly. It was a little cooler, but dusty, and
the hot pavements made her feet ache. She was just wondering whether she
would take a gharri when a motor stopped at the curb and Peter got out.

"What are you doing?" he asked crossly. "Why are you walking in all this
heat? You can't play these games in India. Get in."

He held the door open for her.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ledgard," Jan said, sweetly. "Is it worth while for
such a little way?"

"Get in," Peter said again, and Jan meekly got in.

"I was just coming to see you, and I could have taken you anywhere you
wanted to go, if only you'd waited. Why didn't you take a gharri?"

"Since you must know," Jan said, smiling at the angry Peter, "I went out
because I wanted to go out. And I walked because I wanted to walk."

"You can't do things just because you want to do 'em in this infernal
country--you must consider whether it's a suitable time."

Jan made no answer, and silence reigned till they reached the bungalow.

Peter followed her in.

"Where did you go?" he asked. "And why?"

"I went to the Cathedral, and my reason was that I simply couldn't stay
in the bungalow because the lady below was singing 'Less than the
dust.'"

"I know," Peter said grimly. "Just the sort of thing she would sing."

"She sang very well," Jan owned honestly, "but when Fay was first
engaged she and Hugo used to sing those songs to each other--it seemed
all day long--and this afternoon I couldn't bear it. It seemed such a
sham somehow--so false and unreal, if it only led--to this."

"It's real enough while it lasts, you know," Peter remarked in the
detached, elderly tone he sometimes adopted. "That sort of thing's all
right for an episode, but it's a bit too thin for marriage."

"But surely episodes often end in marriage?"

"Not that