me Boulte came back from his walk, white and worn and
haggard, and the woman was touched at his distress. As the evening wore
on she muttered some expression of sorrow, something approaching to
contrition. Boulte came out of a brown study and said, 'Oh, that! I
wasn't thinking about that. By the way, what does Kurrell say to the
elopement?'

'I haven't seen him,' said Mrs. Boulte. 'Good God, is that all?'

But Boulte was not listening and her sentence ended in a gulp.

The next day brought no comfort to Mrs. Boulte, for Kurrell did not
appear, and the new lift that she, in the five minutes' madness of the
previous evening, had hoped to build out of the ruins of the old, seemed
to be no nearer.

Boulte ate his breakfast, advised her to see her Arab pony fed in the
verandah, and went out. The morning wore through, and at mid-day the
tension became unendurable. Mrs. Boulte could not cry. She had finished
her crying in the night, and now she did not want to be left alone.
Perhaps the Vansuythen Woman would talk to her; and, since talking
opens the heart, perhaps there might be some comfort to be found in her
company. She was the only other woman in the Station.

In Kashima there are no regular calling-hours. Every one can drop in
upon every one else at pleasure. Mrs. Boulte put on a big terai hat, and
walked across to the Vansuythens' house to borrow last week's Queen. The
two compounds touched, and instead of going up the drive, she crossed
through the gap in the cactus-hedge, entering the house from the back.
As she passed through the dining-room, she heard, behind the purdah that
cloaked the drawing-room door, her husband's voice, saying,

'But on my Honour! On my Soul and Honour, I tell you she doesn't
care for me. She told me so last night. I would have told you then if
Vansuythen hadn't been with you. If it is for her sake that you'll have
nothing to say to me, you can make your mind easy. It's Kurrell.'

'What?' said Mrs. Vansuythen, with a hysterical little laugh. 'Kurrell!
Oh, it can't be! You two must have made some horrible mistake. Perhaps
you you lost your temper, or misunderstood, or something. Things can't
be as wrong as you say.'

Mrs. Vansuythen had shifted her defence to avoid the man's pleading, and
was desperately trying to keep him to a side-issue.

'There must be some mistake,' she insisted, 'and it can be all put right
again.'

Boulte laughed grimly.

'It can't be Captain Kurrell! He told