-respect
of any man should be above whining to any one woman because she prefers
somebody else. The mere fact of her doing so renders her utterly
valueless in his sight there and then."

"You don't really mean that, Hilary?" she said. "You're only just
talking, you know."

"Try it and see."

His eyes were full on hers. For the life of her, she could not as
straightly meet that straight, firm glance. This was the only man she
had never been able to deceive. Others she could hoodwink and fool at
will, this one never. So, with a light laugh, with a shade of
nervousness in it that would have been patent to an even less acute
faculty of perception than his, she rejoined--

"Well, you're out of it this time, Hilary. Justin isn't in love with me
at all. Why, it's ridiculous!"

She turned away uneasily. For he knew that she was lying, and she knew
that he did.

"One moment, Hermia," he called out to her. She paused. "While we are
on the subject: are you not getting a little tired of--our partnership?"

"Why?"

"I've seen symptoms of it lately, and I don't think I'm mistaken.
Because, if you are, say so squarely and openly. It'll be much better
in the long run."

"I think you are tired of it," she flashed. "I suppose you have a lot
of black wives over yonder, like that disgusting old Pemberton and
Young. That's why you're so fond of going into the Matabele country,
and leaving me all alone for weeks."

"Apparently you know more about Pemberton's and Young's conjugal
arrangements than I do, but let me assure you you're utterly wrong in
your estimate of mine."

"I don't believe it. You are all of you alike, once you take to going
among those beastly natives."

"You don't believe it? That I can't help, so there it stays. And now
I've lazed long enough, I must rustle about and see to things."

Left there, Hermia watched his tall form, like a pillar of white,
wending up the low kopje at the back of the stockade. He had become
very reserved, very self-contained and inscrutable of late; so much so
indeed, that it was almost impossible to gauge how much he knew or
suspected. Now she felt uneasy, uncomfortable with a dim consciousness
of having come off second best in the recent cut and thrust. Well,
perhaps he was right. She was tired of the existing state of affairs--
perhaps a trifle tired of him.

And he? The kopje up which he had taken his way, ascended by an easy
acclivity to a point which