pstart who kept the palace and
city of Ranjitgarh agog with her stormy and transitory love affairs.
Still, if Sher Singh should have the brilliant inspiration of seeking
an interview with Colonel Antony, and having learnt a lesson from his
previous failure, present himself merely as a disinherited innocent of
pacific tendencies, it was quite likely that he would establish in the
Resident's mind a prepossession in his favour which would tell heavily
against little Kharrak Singh. Gerrard found himself planning the
letter in which he would describe the state of affairs, placing things
in their proper perspective and omitting no detail of importance, not
putting himself forward, and yet not concealing his readiness to accept
the post of Resident at Agpur if it should be thought fit to offer it
him. Both in importance and responsibility it would be considered
quite unsuitable for so young a man, he knew; but after all, Partab
Singh had chosen him, and given him unsolicited two aids to success
which were not, and could not be, in the power of any other man on
earth.

Gerrard lost himself in dreams. This miniature palace, sheltered
within the fort walls, yet standing by itself in its own garden, remote
from the rambling pile of buildings occupied by Partab Singh and his
court, would make an ideal Residency. Not for a solitary man, of
course, but the Resident at Agpur could well afford to marry. Gazing
down into the inner courtyard he saw it in the light of a shrine for
Honour. Honour walked up and down the flagged paths in her white gown,
Honour sat on the broad stone margin of the fountain and raised serious
eyes from her book at his approach--and her whole face lighted up with
a flash of welcome to him, such a flash as he had caught in Lady
Cinnamond's eyes when Sir Arthur returned unexpectedly from a distant
expedition. What blissful evenings they would spend on that broad
pillared verandah, Honour working and he reading to her, or both
together reading, writing, talking, as Colonel and Mrs Antony were wont
to do, two minds working as one, so quickly and naturally did each
supply the deficiencies of the other.

He pulled himself up sharply. Not so very many miles away was another
man dreaming similar dreams--and yet not similar, since the charms of
history and poetry and romance held no place in them. Gerrard himself
might have pleaded guilty to the charge of allowing no opening for the
cultivation of the good wo