the frail curtain of mist swaying,
lifting, spreading to a pearl-white film, till, through a sudden rent,
the red gold of sunset burned, deepening to a mass of velvet shadow
the inexpressible blue of rain-washed hills.

His post of observation on this August evening was the saturated
verandah of "The Deodars," where he had flung himself full length in
Honor's canvas chair, a pipe between his teeth; hands locked behind
his head; lavishly muddied boots and gaiters outstretched; the whole
supple length of him eloquent of well-earned relaxation and repose.

Three days earlier he had ridden up through a world of driving mist
and rain in the wake of Harry Denvil's doolie; having secured a
blessed month of respite for himself and two months for the Boy, who,
by the efforts of three tireless nurses and a redoubtable Scotch
doctor, had been dragged back from death; and was but just beginning
to take hold on life and health again.

From outset to close he had clung to the support of Desmond's presence
with the tenacity of an exhausted body and a fevered brain;--a
tenacity which could not fail to touch the older man's heart, and
which had made it difficult for others to take their due share in the
nursing. Thus the slow weeks of dependence on one side, and unwearied
service on the other, together with the underlying bond between them,
had wrought a closeness of friendship to which the Boy had long
aspired; and which promised to add depth and stability to the warmth
and uprightness of heart that were already his. Harry Denvil's present
need was for a tacit wiping out of the past, an unquestioning trust in
regard to the future; and his Captain, after the wordless manner of
men, gave him full assurance of both. It is just this power to draw
out the best and strongest by the simple habit of taking it for
granted that marks the true leader; the man who compels because he
never insists; whose influence is less a force than a subtle
radiation.

And now, as Theo Desmond sat alone fronting a world compact of mist
and fire, and the fragrance of moist earth, his mind was mainly
concerned with the Boy's future, and with certain retrenchments of his
own expenditure, whereby alone he could hope to cancel the debts that
remained after the disposal of Roland. His sole trouble in respect of
these retrenchments lay in the fact that they must, to some extent,
affect his wife. If only she could be persuaded to see the necessity
as clearly as he