ogether, he seemed to have retired into a shell out of which he
refused to be drawn. They were friendly as ever, but distinctly less
intimate; and Roy felt vaguely responsible, yet powerless to put things
straight. For intimacy--in its essence a mutual impulse--cannot be
induced to order. If one spoke of Miss Arden, or doings in Lahore, Lance
would respond without enthusiasm, and unobtrusively change the subject.
Roy could only infer that his interest in the girl had never gone very
deep and had now fizzled out altogether. But he would have given a good
deal to feel sure that the fizzling out had no connection with his own
appearance on the scene. It bothered him to remember that, at first, in
an odd, repressed fashion Lance had seemed unmistakably keen. But if he
would persist in playing the Trappist monk, what the devil was a fellow
to do?

Even over the Gymkhana programme, there had been an undercurrent of
friction. Lance--in his new vein--had wanted to keep the women out of
it; while Roy--in his new vein--couldn't keep at least one of them out,
if he tried. In particular, both were keen about the Cockade Tournament:
a glorified version of fencing on horseback: the wire masks adorned with
a small coloured feather for plume. He was victor whose fencing-stick
detached his opponent's feather. The prize--Bachelor's Purse--had been
well subscribed for and supplemented by Gymkhana funds. So, on all
accounts, it was a popular event. There were twenty-two names down; and
Roy, in a romantic impulse, had proposed making a real joust of it; each
knight to wear a lady's favour; a Queen of Beauty and Love to be chosen
for the prize-giving, as in the days of chivalry.

Lance had rather hotly objected; and a few inveterate bachelors had
backed him up. But the bulk of men are sentimental at heart; none more
than the soldier. So Roy's idea had caught on, and the matter was
settled. There was little doubt who would be chosen for prize-giver; and
scarcely less doubt whose favour Roy would wear.

Desmond's flash of annoyance had been brief; but he had stipulated that
favours should not be compulsory. If they were, he for one would
'scratch.' This time he had a larger backing; and, amid a good deal of
chaff and laughter, had carried his point.

That open clash between them--slight though it was--had jarred Roy a
good deal. Lance, characteristically, had ignored the whole thing.

But not even the inner jar could blunt Roy's keen antic