very fine fellow indeed, and Kitty
might do worse than marry him. At all events, he was the man of her own
choice.

Accordingly, a trousseau was acquired regardless of cost, and, the
moment Jack's orders arrived recalling him to duty--which was towards
the end of August--trunks were packed, passages were booked, and the
party crossed to France, _en route_ to Marseilles.

Jack's feelings can be better imagined than described. In his wildest
dreams he had not hoped for such luck as a speedy marriage with Kitty,
and he was rendered, for a time, incapable of coherent thought. They
boarded the mail boat at Marseilles and settled down as an engaged
couple to enjoy the days at sea to the extent of their capacity.

Beyond an occasional cruiser in the distance, or a destroyer there was
nothing throughout the voyage to remind them of the war; and, from the
point of view of belligerency, it was both uneventful and calm.

As recognised lovers, Kitty and Jack had the choice of sheltered nooks
and were left to themselves, undisturbed, except by camera fiends who
snapped them at embarrassing moments and made themselves generally
obnoxious.

Being absorbed in his happiness, Jack had given no thought to Mrs. Fox
who was awaiting him in Calcutta, till, one day, in the Arabian Sea, the
imminent prospect of their meeting filled him with uneasiness and
obliged him to consider his position seriously. As far as he knew, she
was expecting to fall into his arms on his reappearance in India. She
knew nothing of his new-found happiness and was very likely wondering at
his reason for having missed so many mails. She would not follow him to
England since she was aware that all leave was cancelled.

So awkward was the situation, that Jack was greatly disturbed and sought
the advice of a ship-board acquaintance who happened to be a young man
of wide experience in the affairs of the heart.

"I should tell my _fiancee_, in your place," said he. "Put it to her
straight. The great thing is to get your story in before the other has a
chance to cut the ground from under your feet. That is, if she is the
sort to do it."

"She's the sort right enough," said Jack miserably. "She would do it to
spite me for breaking my word to her; but--damn it!--I'd rather be shot
than become her husband, now that I am crazy after the sweetest girl in
the world, and she is ready to marry me!"

"Then have it over. It is better than someone telling her at a
tea-party