s sake
entirely exclude her from the regimental society, but to no intimate
gathering was she ever invited, nor from the female portion of the
community was there any welcome for her at the Club.

The attitude of the officers of the regiment was of a totally different
nature. They had accepted her with enthusiasm, possibly all the more
marked on account of the aloofness of their women folk, and in a very
short time they were paying her homage as one man. The subalterns who
had shared their quarters with Tommy turned out to make room for her,
treating her like a queen suddenly come into her own, and like a queen
she entered into possession, accepting all courtesy just as she ignored
all slights with a delicate self-possession that yet knew how to be
gracious when occasion demanded.

Mrs. Ralston would have offered her harbourage had she desired it, but
there was pride in Stella--a pride that surged and rebelled very far
below her serenity. She received favours from none.

And so, unshackled and unchaperoned, she had gone her way among her
critics, and no one--not even Tommy--suspected how deep was the wound
that their barely-veiled hostility had inflicted. In bitterness of soul
she hid it from all the world, and only her brother and her brother's
grim and somewhat unapproachable captain were even vaguely aware of its
existence.

Everard Monck was one of the very few men who had not laid themselves
down before her dainty feet, and she had gradually come to believe that
this man shared the silent, side-long disapproval manifested by the
women. Very strangely that belief hurt her even more deeply, in a
subtle, incomprehensible fashion, than any slights inflicted by her own
sex. Possibly Tommy's warm enthusiasm for the man had made her more
sensitive regarding his good opinion. And possibly she was over ready to
read condemnation in his grave eyes. But--whatever the reason--she would
have given much to have had him on her side. Somehow it mattered to her,
and mattered vitally.

But Monck had never joined her retinue of courtiers. He was never other
than courteous to her, but he did not seek her out. Perhaps he had
better things to do. Aloof, impenetrable, cold, he passed her by, and
she would have been even more amazed than Tommy had she heard him
describe her as beautiful, so convinced was she that he saw in her no
charm.

It had been a disheartening struggle, this hewing for herself a way
along the rocky paths of p