pt his back turned and
studiously refrained from hoping....

"If you two have _quite_ finished breaking up the Empire...?" said Miss
Arden's voice at his elbow. She had approached so quietly that he
started. Worse still, he knew she had seen. "I was terrified of being
caught,"--she turned affectionately to her stepfather--"so I flung Mr
Hayes to the wolves--and fled. You're sanctuary!"

Her fingers caressed his sleeve. Words and touch waked a smile in his
mournful eyes. They seemed to understand one another, these two. To Roy
she had never seemed more charming; and his own abrupt volte-face was
unsteadying, to say the least of it.

"Hayes would prove a tough mouthful--even for wolves," Elton remarked
pensively.

"He _would_! He's so securely lacquered over with--well--we won't be
unkind. _But_--strictly between ourselves, Pater--wouldn't you love to
swop him for Mr Sinclair, these days?"

"My _dear_!" Elton reproached her, nervously shifting his large hands.
"Hayes is a model--of efficiency! But--well, well--if Mr Sinclair will
forgive flattery to his face--I should say he has many fine qualities
for an Indian career, should he be inclined that way----"

"Thank you, sir. I'd no notion----" Roy murmured, overwhelmed, as
Elton--seeing Miss Garten stranded--moved dutifully to her rescue.

Miss Arden glanced again at Roy. "_Are_ you inclining that way?"

The question took him aback.

"Me? No. Of course I'd love it--for some things."

"You're well out of it, in my opinion. It'll soon be no country for a
white man. He's already little more than a futile superfluity----"

"On the contrary," Roy struck in warmly, "the Englishman--of the
rightest sort, is more than ever needed in India to-day."

Her slight shrug conceded the point. "I never argue! And if you start on
_that_ subject--I'm nowhere! You can save it all up for the Pater. He's
rather a dear--don't you think?"

"He's splendid."

Her smile had its caressing quality. "That's the last adjective any one
else would apply to him! But it's true. There's a fine streak in
him--very carefully hidden away. People don't see it, because he's shy
and clumsy and hasn't an ounce of push. But he understands the natives.
Loves them. Goodness knows why. And he's got the right touch. I could
tell you a tale----"

"Do!" he urged. "Tales are my pet weakness."

She subsided into the empty chair and looked up invitingly. "Sit," she
commanded--and he obeyed.

He was neith