eople. Besides, what was the use of
rebelling, since it would be futile against such a mighty race as the
British, who were also good rulers, taking no advantage to themselves
from their might, and giving each man according to his due? The needs of
the village folk were mainly personal, and so long as these were
supplied, what cared they if the rulers of the land were Christians.
They never interfered with the Moslem religion; why should Moslems
interfere with theirs? And so this man also departed discouraged.

At Panipara, interest centred chiefly on the fact that the Government
had decided that the _jhil_ should be drained. The Great War was a
secondary matter. Wells were already in process of construction and, at
the end of the rains, before the water of the wide morass could be
poisoned with germs, usually bred in the drought of winter and spring,
the drainage was to be taken in hand and the health of the District
safeguarded forever. All this interference and annoyance had sprung from
the doctor Sahib, who was thereby the most unpopular sahib that had ever
been put in charge of the sanitation of a District. He was cursed by the
ignorant in the Muktiarbad bazaar and at Panipara village itself, but so
far his person had been respected, as it was known by some occult means
that he secretly carried firearms wherever he went.

In July, Honor had returned with her mother from Mussoorie in the
Himalayas, physically and mentally stronger for her prolonged absence.

Captain Dalton and she had corresponded as friends, all expressions of
personal feeling being rigorously excluded from the closely written
pages. Both had bravely "played the game," the faithfulness and
regularity of the letters, alone testifying to their unchanged devotion.

When they met again, Honor having braced herself to the ordeal, had
sustained it courageously, no one guessing how much it had cost her to
smile and shake hands with the doctor as naturally as she had done, the
moment before, with Tommy; for the meeting had taken place,
unexpectedly, at the Club.

Captain Dalton retired to his bungalow shortly afterwards, and the
tension had lifted. He had gone, Honor knew, instinctively, because he
could not bear to stand by, listening indifferently to the general
conversation when his heart was filled with longing to speak to her
alone. She had experienced the same inward impatience, but had learned a
greater self-control.

By and by, their meetings