-eyed, golden-haired little beauty
only shrank back a little nearer to the after-wheelhouse of the homeward
bound P. and O. liner whose deck was the scene of this first act of the
tragedy of three lives. A bright flush came into her cheeks, and a new
light began to dance in her eyes as the first look of fright died out of
them. The breath came and went more quickly between the half-opened
lips with a low sibilant sound. They were pretty, well-cut lips, the
upper short and exquisitely curved, and the lower full with the promise
of a sensuous maturity.

She was only seven, but she was woman enough already to know that these
two lads were fighting for _her_--for the favour of her smiles and the
right to her kisses--and so she stayed.

She had heard in India how the tigers fought for their mates, and, with
the precocity of the Anglo-Indian child, she recognised now the likeness
between tigers and men--and boys. She was being fought for. These two
lads, albeit they had neither of them seen their eleventh birthday, were
using all their strength against each other, hammering each other's
faces with their fists, wrestling and writhing, now upstanding and now
on the deck at her feet, were not unlike the tigers she had heard her
father tell her mother about.

She saw the hatred in their eyes, red and swollen by the impact of
well-planted blows. She watched the gleam of their teeth between their
cut and bleeding lips. They hated each other because they loved her--or,
in their boyish way, most firmly believed they did. Their lips were cut
and bleeding because she had kissed them.

The fascination of the fight grew upon her. The hot young blood began to
dance in her veins. She found herself encouraging now one and then the
other--always the one who was getting the worst of it for the time
being--and when at last the younger and slighter but more wiry and
active of them, the one who had caught the other kissing her, took
adroit advantage of a roll of the ship and pitched his antagonist
backwards so heavily against the wheelhouse that he dropped
half-stunned to the deck, she looked proudly at the panting, bleeding
victor, and gasped:

"Oh, Vane, I'm so glad you've won. You haven't quite killed him, have
you? I suppose the captain would hang you if you did. I'm _so_ sorry it
was all about me. I'll never let any one else but you kiss me again.
Really I won't. You may kiss me now if you like. Take my handkerchief.
Oh, I don't mind