a sort of perverse curiosity.'

'That's so like you. You always managed to infuse a bitter drop into
your sweetness. And you COULD be so adorably sweet... If only I could
ever have felt sure of you.'

'Where would have been the use? We never could spend an hour together
without hurting or annoying each other. It's a very good thing for us
both that neither cared enough to make any real sacrifice for the
other.'

'There you wrong me,' he exclaimed. 'I did care--I cared intensely. The
touch of your hand--the very sweep of your dress thrilled every nerve
in me. I never in all my life loved a woman as I loved you. That last
day when you walked out of my rooms....'

'Where I never ought to have gone. Fancy the properly brought-up
English girl you used to hold up to me doing such a shocking thing as
to visit you alone in your chambers! ... Oh! Is that Colin back again?'

For Maule had started visibly at the sound of quick steps mounting to
the veranda, and McKeith's towering figure appeared in the doorway,
looking at them.

Lady Bridget turned her head, her cigarette in her hand, and glanced up
at his face. What she saw in it might have made a less reckless or less
innocent woman feel uneasy. She was sure that he must have heard that
last speech of hers about visiting Maule in his chambers. Well, she
didn't care. Besides Colin hadn't the smallest right to resent any
action of hers before her marriage... She did not turn a hair. Maule
admired her composure.

'BON SANG NE PEUT MENTIR,' he thought to himself, and wished they had
been talking in French.

'You look as grim as the statue of the Commander,' said Lady Bridget.
'What is the matter?'

'Lady Bridget and I have been exchanging unconventional reminiscences,'
put it Maule with forced lightness.

McKeith took no notice of either remark, but strode across the room to
the roll-top escritoire, where he usually wrote his letters when in his
wife's company. He extracted a bundle of papers from one of the pigeon
holes.

'This is what I came for. Sorry to have interrupted your
reminiscences,' and he went out again, passing along the back veranda.

Maule had got up and was standing at the fireplace. Lady Bridget rose
too.

'I'm going to bed. We keep early hours in the Bush.'

'What! Already!' he exclaimed in dismay.

'I was up at six this morning. Well, I hope you won't be too
uncomfortable with the white ants in the Old Humpey--they are perfectly
harmless. Yo