with himself, in connection with his marriage--otherwise they added
pricks. Besides he had that other matter to think of.

He thought of the other matter with such obvious irritation that the
butler coming in to say that the 'English water' was finished, and how
many dozen should he order, put a chair in its place instead, closed
the door softly again, and went away. It was not good for the dignity of
butlers to ask questions of any sort with a look of that kind under the
eyebrows of the sahib. The matter was not serious, Colonel Innes told
himself, but he would prefer by comparison to deal with matters that
were serious. He knew Simla well enough to attach no overwhelming
importance to things said about women at the Club, where the broadest
charity prevailed underneath, and the idle comment of the moment had
an intrinsic value as a distraction rather than a reflective one as
a criticism. This consideration, however, was more philosophical
in connection with other men's wives. He found very little in it to
palliate what he had overheard, submerged in the 'Times of India', that
afternoon. And to put an edge on it, the thing had been said by one of
his own juniors. Luckily the boy had left the room without discovering
who was behind the 'Times of India'. Innes felt that he should be
grateful for having been spared the exigency of defending his wife
against a flippant word to which she had very probably laid herself
open. He was very angry, and it is perhaps not surprising that he did
not pause to consider how far his anger was due to the humiliating
necessity of speaking to her about it. She was coming at last though;
she was in the hall. He would get it over quickly.

'Goodbye!' said Mrs. Innes at the door. 'No, I can't possibly let you
come in to tea. I don't know how you have the conscience after drinking
three cups at Mrs. Mickie's, where I had no business to take you!
Tomorrow? Oh, all right if you want to VERY badly. But I won't promise
you strawberries--they're nearly all gone.'

There was the sound of a departing pony's trot, and Mrs. Innes came into
the drawing-room.

'Good heavens, Horace! what are you sitting there for like a--like a
ghost? Why didn't you make a noise or something, and why aren't you at
office? I can't tell you how you startled me.'

'It is early,' Colonel Innes said. 'We are neither of us in the house,
as a rule, at this hour.'

'Coincidence!' Violet turned a cool, searching glance on