y well there's a
bigger thing than success in the world, and if I can ever help you to
it--by God, old boy, I will!"

He said it hurriedly, expecting it to be received with irony. But there
was no trace of cynicism left in Max's face as he gave him a final grip,
and turned away with the one word: "Thanks!"

When he had gone, Noel returned to the room with sober gait, and paused
in the middle of it to pick up his sword.

"I wonder if he cares much," he murmured half aloud.

He stood by the table with eyes absently fixed, going over in his mind
the conversation that had just passed, recalling the leisurely,
supercilious tones, the semi-ironical kindness with which his brother
had revealed the situation. Why had he troubled himself to do so? For a
space Noel wondered.

And then very suddenly the words, "You've got to worship her always,"
flashed through his mind. Those words were the key to everything. He
realized that fully. And again he was conscious of shame. Yes, Max did
care. That was beyond all questioning. He cared enough to do what
he--Noel--had wholly failed to do. His love was great enough to efface
itself, a form of love--the rarest and the highest--of which he himself
was as yet incapable. He could stand between the girl and death without
a second's hesitation; but he could not live and sacrifice his happiness
to hers.

Again the hot blood mounted to his forehead and slowly sank again. And
in those few moments Noel Wyndham stepped into manhood and faced his
soul anew. If she loved him, he would marry her and give her all he had;
withholding nothing. She should not be a loser because she had loved him
better than Max.

He would give her a love as strong and as worthy. He would make her
happiness his aim and his goal, his watch-word and his prize. No
sacrifice should ever be too great for her. He would offer all he had.

No; never should she come to repent her preference--to regret the love
she had refused. She had chosen him--the lesser before the greater; and
she should not find him wanting. She should not be disappointed in him.
Never, never now should his love fail her!

Impulsive as always, he lifted his sword and kissed the hilt with
reverence. "So help me, God!" he swore.

CHAPTER XIX

A FIGHT WITHOUT A FINISH

It was not the same Olga who went back into the busy little Anglo-Indian
community at Sharapura after the breaking of her engagement, though it
was only those intimate with h