ised her face with a
shade of anxiety.

"You do look white, Ladybird. How would it be if I took you to Murree
in a week's time?"

"It would be simply lovely! _Can_ you do it--really? Would you _let_
me go so soon?"

"_Let_ you go? Do you think I want to keep you here a moment later
than you care to stay?"

"Theo!" Instant reproach clouded the April brightness of her face.
"How horrid you are! I thought you liked to have me here as long as
possible."

He laughed outright at that. He was apt to find her unreasonableness
more charming than irritating.

"Surely, little woman, that goes without saying. But if the heat is
troubling you, and headaches, I like better to have you where you can
be rid of both; and as the notion seems to please you, we'll consider
the matter settled."

* * * * *

Between nine and ten that evening, when the three were sitting
together in the drawing-room, the outer stillness was broken by a
sound of many footsteps and voices rapidly nearing the house. No
native crowd this time. The steps and voices were unmistakably
English; and Desmond rose hastily.

"This must be Rajinder Singh's doing! It looks as if they meant to
overwhelm us in force."

Evelyn had risen also, with a slight frown between her brows.

"Can't I go to bed before they come, Theo? I'm very tired, and they're
sure to make a dreadful noise."

"I'm afraid that won't do at all," he said decisively, a rare note of
reproof in his tone. "They probably won't stop long, and you must
please stay up till they go."

As he spoke, Harry Denvil in white Mess uniform, scarlet kummerband,
and jingling spurs, plunged into the room.

"I'm only the advance guard! The whole regiment's coming on
behind--even the Colonel--to drink Miss Meredith's health!" He turned
upon the girl and shook hands with her at great length. "All the same,
you know," he protested laughing, "it's not fair play for _you_ to go
doing that sort of thing. Wish I'd had the chance of it myself!"

Such speeches are impossible to answer; and Honor was thankful that
the main body of troops arrived in time to save her from the futile
attempt.

But she was only at the beginning of her ordeal.

By the time that Mrs Olliver and six men had wrung her hand with
varying degrees of vigour, each adding a characteristic tribute of
thanks and praise, her cheeks were on fire; and a mist, which she
tried vainly to dispel, blurred her vision.