ath his silence the fire of his formidable temper. And
just because he had neither pleaded nor stormed, she had come perilously
near to an ignominious _volte-face_, from which she had only been saved
by something in him, not in herself. If she did not know it then, she
knew it now. In the second place, he had died gallantly--again on
account of Roy. Snatched utterly out of reach, out of sight, his value
was enhanced tenfold; and now, to crown all, came Roy's revelation of
his amazing magnanimity....

Strange, what a complicated affair it was, for some people, this simple
natural business of getting married. Was it part of the price one had
to pay for being beautiful? Half the girls one knew slipped into it with
much the same sort of thrill as they slipped into a new frock. But those
were mostly the nice plain little things, who subsided gratefully into
the first pair of arms held out to them. And probably they had their
reward.

In chastened moods, Rose did not quite care to remember how many times
she had succumbed, experimentally, to that supreme temptation. Good
heavens! What would her precious pair think of her--if they knew! At
least, she had the grace to feel proud that the tale of her conquests
included two such men.

But Lance was gone--on account of Roy--where no spell of hers could
touch him any more; and Roy--was he going too ... on account of
Lance...? Not if she could prevent him; and yet ... goodness knew!

The sigh that shivered through her sprang from a deeper source than mere
self-pity.

Rattle of rickshaw wheels, puffing and grunting of _jhampannis_,
heralded the return of her mother, who had been out paying a round of
preliminary calls. It took eight stalwart men and a rickshaw of special
dimensions to convey her formidable bulk up and down Simla roads; and
affectionate friends hinted that the men demanded extra pay for extra
weight!

A glance at her florid face warned Rose there was trouble in the air.

"Oh, Rose--_there_ you are. I've had the shock of my life!" Waving away
her _jhampannis_, she sank into an adjacent cane chair that creaked and
swayed ominously under the assault. "It was at Mrs Tait's. My
dear--would you _believe_ it? That fine fiance of yours--after worming
himself into our good graces--turns out to be practically a
_half-caste_. A superior one, it seems. But still--the deceitfulness of
the man! Going about looking like everybody else too! And grey-blue eyes
into the bargai