open the
door.

She stood a moment and contemplated him with shining eyes. "You
are too magnificent altogether for this doll's house of ours," she
declared. "I am sure this humble roof has never before sheltered such
a lion as Captain Blake Grange, V.C."

"Only an ass in a lion's skin, my dear Daisy," said Grange modestly.

She laughed. "An excellent simile, my worthy cousin. I wish I had
thought of it myself."

She went lightly away with this thrust, and Grange, after a brief
pause, turned slowly back into the room.

Muriel was seated in a low chair before the fire. She was working at
some tiny woollen socks, knitting swiftly in dead silence.

He moved to the hearthrug, and stood there, obviously ill at ease. A
certain shyness was in his nature, and Muriel's nervousness reacted
upon him. He did not know how to break the silence.

At length, with an effort, he spoke. "You heard about Nick Ratcliffe's
wound, I expect, Miss Roscoe?"

Muriel's hands leapt suddenly and fell into her lap. "Nick Ratcliffe!
When was he wounded? No, I have heard nothing."

He looked down at her with an uneasy suspicion that he had lighted
upon an unfortunate subject.

"I thought you would have heard," he said. "Didn't Daisy know? He
came back to us from Simla--got himself attached to the punitive
expedition. I was on the sick list myself, so did not see him, but
they say he fought like a dancing dervish, and did a lot of damage
too. Every one thought he would have the V.C., but there was a rumour
that he refused it."

"And--he was wounded, you say?" Muriel's voice sounded curiously
strained. Her knitting lay jumbled together in her lap. Her dark face
was lifted, and it seemed to Grange, unskilled observer though he was,
that he had never seen deeper tragedy in any woman's eyes.

Somewhat reluctantly he made reply. "He had his arm injured by a
sword-thrust at the very end of the campaign. He made light of it for
ever so long till things began to look serious. Then he had to give
in, and had a pretty sharp time of it, I believe. He's better again
now, though, so his brother told me this evening. I never heard any
details. I daresay he's all right again." He stooped to pick up a
completed sock that had fallen. "He's the sort of chap who always
comes out on top," he ended consolingly.

Muriel stiffened a little as she sat. She had a curious longing to
hear more, and an equally curious reluctance to ask for it.

"I never heard an