ed, after an hour of assiduous instruction, Desmond had frankly
expressed his approval both of her aptness and daring.

When Lenox heard the news on Friday morning, he heartily wished he had
decided on a second day's shooting.

Anxiety apart, the knowledge that the woman he loved could thus make a
public exhibition of herself for the amusement of a very mixed crowd, set
the fastidious, old-world temper of the man on edge. For all that he was
in his place, well before the appointed time: and from the first crack of
polo-stick on ball his eyes never left his wife's flushed face and
lightly swaying figure.

The polo ground, occupying the centre of the glade, was ringed about by a
crowd as varied and gay in colouring as a bed of mixed tulips in spring.
Even the open tent, where the English spectators were gathered, showed a
prevailing lightness and brightness of tint. On the farther side of the
tent, the Depot band gave out a cheerful blare of sound; and a June sun
beamed complacently over all.

For the first twenty minutes the serio-comic game went forward merrily:
the women playing in desperate earnest; the men making broad farce out of
their ludicrous handicap.

Quita, who had elected to play Diamond first and fourth, was restrained
at the outset by the fact that she was handling a priceless pony. But,
with the opening of the third _chukkur_, increasing self-confidence,
coupled with the pace and keenness of Bathurst's 'Unlimited Loo,' fired
her venturesome spirit: and she flung herself heart and soul into the
intoxication of the game; half hoping that some sudden crash and fall
might solve the problem of her life by the simple expedient of putting
out the light.

More than once Desmond called out an unheeded warning. He saw that pony
and rider alike were in danger of losing their heads; and Lenox, leaning
forward in an anguish of suspense, followed her every movement with
conflicting fury and admiration.

At last the _chukkur_ drew to an end.

Away by the farthest goal-posts a fine parody of a scrimmage was in
progress, Desmond and Quita being 'on the ball.' The advantage was hers;
and she made haste to secure it. Rising in the saddle, she swung her
stick for an ambitious back-handed stroke, missed the ball, and smote
'Unlimited Loo,' with the full force of her arm, high up on the off
hind-leg.

At this uncalled bolt from the blue, the sensitive animal,--who had never
in all his days been chastised by