ngularity to catch some confidential tit-bit
from little Mrs Hunter-Ranyard. Of course that fellow would take her in.
He, Roy, had no official position now; and without it one was negligible
in Anglo-India. Besides, Mrs Elton openly favoured Talbot Hayes. Failing
Rose, there were two more prospective brides at Home--twins; and Hayes
was fatally endowed with all the surface symptoms of the 'coming man':
the supple alertness and self-assurance; the instinct for the right
thing; and--supreme asset in these days--a studious detachment from the
people and the country. In consequence, needless to say, he remained
obstinately sceptical as regards the rising storm.

Very early, Roy had put out feelers to discover how much he understood
or cared; and Hayes had blandly assured him: "Bengal may bluster and
the D.C. may pessimise, but you can take it from me, there will be no
serious upheaval in the North. If ever these people are fools enough to
manoeuvre us out of India, so much the worse for them; so much the
better for us. It's a beastly country."

Nevertheless Roy observed that he appeared to extract out of the beastly
country every available ounce of enjoyment. In affable moments, he could
even manage to forget his career--and unbend. He was unbending now.

A few paces off, the dyspeptic Judge was discussing 'the situation' with
his host--a large unwieldy man, so nervous of his own bulk and unready
wit that only the discerning few discovered the sensitive, friendly
spirit very completely hidden under a bushel. Roy, who had liked him at
sight, felt vaguely sorry for him. He seemed a fish out of water in his
own home; overwhelmed by the florid, assured personality of his wife.

They were the last, of course; nearly five minutes late. Trust Roy. Only
four other guests; Dr Ethel Wemyss, M.B., lively and clever and new to
the country; Major and Mrs Garten of the Sikhs, with a stolid
good-humoured daughter, who unfailingly wore the same frock and the same
disarming smile.

The Deputy Commissioner's wife permitted herself few military intimates.
But she had come in touch with Mrs Garten over a _dhobi's_[19] chit and
a recipe for pumelo gin. Both women were consumedly Anglo-Indian. All
their values were social;--pay, promotion, prestige. All their
lamentations pitched in the same key:--everything dearer, servants
'impossible,' hospitality extinct, with every one saving and scraping to
get Home. Both were deeply versed in bazaar p