's gone now, though. And there's poor Sir Nevil----"

He rose abruptly and strode over to the fireplace. "Tell you what, Thea.
If the bee in Roy's bonnet is buzzing to _that_ tune, some one's got to
stop it----"

"That's my point!" She swung round confronting him. "Why not whisk him
back to the Punjab? It does seem the only way----"

Lance nodded again. "Now you talk sense. Mind, I don't believe he'll
come. Roy's a tougher customer than he looks to the naked eye. But I'll
have a shot at it to-night. If needs must, I'll tell him why. I can
swallow half a regiment of his Dyans; but not--the other thing. I hope
you find us intact in the morning!"

She flew to him and kissed him with fervour; and she was still in his
arms, when Roy strolled casually into the room.

* * * * *

There were only three outsiders that night: the State Engineer and two
British officers in the Maharajah's employ. But they sat down sixteen to
dinner; and, very shortly after, came three others in the persons of
Dyan and Sir Lakshman Singh, with his distinguished friend Mahomed
Inayat Khan, from Hyderabad. Nothing Thea enjoyed better than getting a
mixed batch of men together and hearing them talk--especially shop; for
then she knew their hearts were in it. They were happy.

And to-night, her chance assortment was amazingly varied, even for
India:--Army, 'Political,' Civil; P.W.D. and Native States; New India,
in the person of Dyan; and not least, the 'medical mish' pair; an
element rich in mute inglorious heroism, as the villagers and 'depressed
classes' of India know. She took keen delight in the racial interplay of
thought and argument, with Roy, as it were, for bridge-builder between.
How he would relish the idea! He seemed very much in the vein this
evening, especially since his grandfather arrived. He was clearly making
an impression on Mr Mayne and Inayat Khan; and a needle-prick of remorse
touched her heart. For Aruna, annexed by Captain Martin's subaltern, was
watching him too, when she fancied no one was looking; and Lance,
attentively silent, was probably laying deep plans for his capture. A
wicked shame--but still...!

As a matter of fact, Lance, too, was troubled with faint compunction. He
had never seen Roy in this kind of company, nor in this particular vein.
And, reluctantly, he admitted that it did seem rather a waste of his
mentally reviving vigour hauling him back to the common round of tennis