. The intimacy of everyday life had drawn them very near to each
other; for Honor had all the magnetism of a woman made for tenderness;
a magnetism few men can resist, and few women condone.

"You look so tired, and aloof from it all," she said gently. "I'm
afraid the boys' nonsense and noisiness worries your head."

"Not a bit of it. It's good to see them enjoying themselves. You're a
public benefactor, Mrs Desmond."

She laughed, and blushed.

"Nonsense. It's only so nice of them to come, when one can do so
little to amuse them. Do have some more coffee."

"Thanks. It's capital stuff. Dick's very late," he added anxiously.
"I'm wondering what's come to him."

He rose, and followed her to the tea-table, where Bobby Nixon saluted
with his most expansive smile; and announced that O'Flanagan,
reinforced by refreshment, was once more 'willing to oblige.'

An assurance that the rest were unanimously willing to listen brought
the Irishman to his feet, banjo in hand; a lank, clean-shaven
individual, who secreted a well-spring of humour beneath the
tragi-comic solemnity of the born-low comedian. He was greeted with
cries of "Fire away, old Flannel Jacket!" "Phil the Fluter's Ball!"
"An' give ut in shtyle!" He gave it in style accordingly, and in a
brogue as broad as his own shoulders; the whole room spontaneously
taking up the chorus.

"Wid the toot of the flute, an' the twiddle of the fiddle,
Dancin' in the middle, like a herring on a griddle!
Up an' down, hands come round, cross into the wall--
Faith, hadn't we the gaietee . . ."

But at this point the door opened to admit Max Richardson. He was
still in uniform; and there was that in his face which checked their
hilarity, and made O'Flanagan instantly put down his banjo.

Honor went quickly towards him, holding out her hand.

"What is it?" she asked in a low tone.

"It's young Hodson. He died . . . half an hour ago."

"Not cholera?"

Dick nodded.

An inarticulate murmur went round the room; and for several seconds no
one spoke. The first white man down seemed to bring the enemy within
striking distance of each one of them.

Then Lenox came forward. "You'll excuse us, Mrs Desmond?" he said
quietly. And the two men went out, leaving a strangely silent room
behind them.

They passed through the hall into the dining-room before Lenox took the
pipe from his lips, and spoke.

"Bad business," he remarked laconically. "And, God