one must agree that
the honours are almost equally divided----"

More applause; and Roy--scarcely crediting his ears or eyes--saw her
pick a rose from her cluster.

The moment speech was possible, she leaned forward, smiling frankly at
him before them all.

"Mr Sinclair, will you accept a mere token by way of consolation prize?
We are all agreed you put up a splendid fight; and it was no dishonour
to be defeated by--such an adversary."

Fresh clapping and shouting; while Roy--elated and overwhelmed--went
forward like a man walking in a dream.

It was a dream-woman who pinned the rosebud in his empty button-hole,
patting it into shape with the lightest touch of her finger-tips,
saying, "Well done indeed," and smiling at him again....

Without a word he saluted and walked away.

She had done it prettily, past question; and in a fashion all her own.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 24: Marquee tent.]

[Footnote 25: Criminal Investigation Department.]

[Footnote 26: Well done.]

[Footnote 27: Victory to Desmond Sahib.]

CHAPTER VI.

"Blood and brain and spirit, three--
Join for true felicity.
Are they parted, then expect
Someone sailing will be wrecked."
--GEORGE MEREDITH.

On the night after the Gymkhana the great little world of Lahore was
again disporting itself, with unabated vigour, in the pillared ballroom
of the Lawrence Hall. They could tell tales worth inditing, those
pillars and galleries that have witnessed all the major festivities of
Punjab Anglo-India--its loves and jealousies and high-hearted
courage--from the day of crinolines and whiskers, to this day of the
tooth-brush moustache, the retiring skirts and still more retiring
bodices of after-war economy. And there are those who believe they will
witness the revelry of Anglo-Indian generations yet to be.

Had Lance Desmond shared Roy's gift for visions, he might have seen, in
spirit, the ghosts of his mother and father, in the pride of their
youth, and that first legendary girl-wife, of whom Thea had once told
him all she knew, and whose grave he had seen in Kohat cemetery with a
queer mingling of pity and resentment in his heart. There should have
been no one except his own splendid mother--first, last, and all the
time.

But Lance, though no scoffer, had small intimacy with ghosts; and Roy's
frequented other regions; nor was he in the frame of mind to induce
spiritual visitations. Soul and bo