free as a bird
with a string round its leg. He resented the aptness of that degrading
simile. It was a new sensation; and he did not relish it. The few women
he intimately loved had counted for so much in his life that he scarcely
realised his abysmal ignorance of the power that is in woman--the mere
opposite of man; the implicit challenge, the potent lure. Partly from
temperament, partly from principle, he had kept more or less clear of
'all that'. Now, weaponless, he had rashly entered the lists.

He opened Miss Arden's note feeling antagonistic. But its friendliness
disarmed him. She hoped they had enjoyed themselves immensely and slain
enough creatures to satisfy their primitive instincts. And her mother
hoped Mr Sinclair would dine with them on Wednesday evening: quite a
small affair.

His first impulse was to refuse; but her allusion to the slain creatures
touched up his conscience. To cap the omission by refusing her
invitation might annoy her. No sense in that. So he decided to accept;
and sat down to enjoy his home letters at leisure.

Lance, it transpired, had not been asked. He and Barnard were the
favoured ones,--and, on the appointed evening, they drove in together.
Roy had been writing nearly all day. He had reached a point in his
chapter at which a break was distracting. Yet here he was, driving
Barnard to Lahore, cursing his luck, and--yes--trying to ignore a
flutter of anticipation in the region of his heart....

As far as mere lust of the eye went--and it went a good way with Roy--he
had his reward the moment he entered Mrs Elton's overloaded
drawing-room. Rose Arden excelled herself in evening dress. The carriage
of her head, the curve of her throat, and the admirable line from ear to
shoulder made a picture supremely satisfying to his artist's eye.

Her negligible bodice was a filmy affair--ivory white with glints of
gold. Her gauzy gold wedding-sash, swathed round her hips, fell in a
fringed knot below her knee. Filmy sleeves floated from her shoulders,
leaving the arms bare and unadorned, except for one gold bangle, high
up--the latest note from Home. For the rest, her rope of amber beads and
long earrings only a few tones lighter than her astonishing hazel eyes.

Face to face with her beauty, and her discreetly veiled pleasure at
sight of him, he could not be ungracious enough to curse his luck. But
his satisfaction cooled at sight of Talbot Hayes by the mantelpiece,
inclining his polished a