hat she
might prefer to be alone.

Ten minutes later, however, when tea was finished, Rex rose lazily from
the ground, stretched his long arms, and strode off in the direction of
the shrubbery. Half-way down the path he met Norah marching along in
solitary state, white about the cheeks, suspiciously red and swollen
about the eyes.

Rex clasped his hands behind his back, and blocked the narrow way.

"Well, what are you doing here?"

"Crying!" Norah flashed a defiant glance at him, then turned aside to
dab her face with her handkerchief and gulp in uncontrollable misery,
whereupon Rex looked distressed, uncomfortable, and irritated all at the
same moment.

"Then please stop at once. What's the use of crying? You can't help it
now, better make the best of it, and be as jolly as you can. Norah--
look here, I'm sorry to bother you any more to-day, but I came over
specially to have a chat. I have not had a chance of speaking to you
quietly until now, and my father is driving round for us at six o'clock.
Before he comes I wanted to tell you--"

Norah put her handkerchief in her pocket, and faced him with steady
eyes. Her heart gave a leap of understanding, and a cold certainty of
misery settled upon her which seemed to dry up the fountain of tears,
and leave her still and rigid.

"Yes?"

"We had a big talk last night, Norah. The three years are up, you know,
and I have fulfilled my share of the bargain. I have known all the time
what my decision would be, and six months ago I wrote to all the men I
know abroad, asking them to look out for the sort of berth I wanted. On
Tuesday I had a letter from a man in India offering me a good opening.
You will be surprised to hear why he gives me the chance instead of all
the other fellows who are anxious to get it. It is because I am a good
musician! I don't mean in your sense of the word, of course, but I can
rattle away on the piano and play any air I happen to hear, and he says
the fellows up-country set no end of store by that sort of thing. If
other qualifications are equal, the post is given to the man who can
play, and make things cheerful in the evening. Rather a sarcasm, isn't
it, after all the money that has been spent on my education, that such a
trifle should decide my destiny? Well--I showed the letter to my
father, and he was terribly cut up about the whole thing. I had said
nothing about my plans for some time back, for it seemed no use to upset
h