the great country of her husband's service; who were as flies on
the wheels of its complex mechanism; and who heartily loved or hated
it, as the case might be.

At last, after a week of devoted nursing, Honor was allowed to make her
first appearance in the drawing-room; and Desmond invited a 'select
few' to tea for the occasion. Wyndham stood alone on the hearth-rug
when she entered, her husband supporting her with his arm. She was
visibly thinner; and her face was almost as colourless as the sweeping
folds of her tea-gown. Otherwise her beauty had reasserted itself
triumphantly; and Wyndham caught his breath as he came towards her.

She gave him both her hands; and he held them closely for a long
moment. Then, obeying a rare and imperative impulse, he bent down and
touched them with his lips. A faint colour tinged Honor's cheeks.
"Dear Paul," she said under her breath: and Desmond, leading her to the
sofa, established her in a nest of cushions, with a light covering for
her feet, just as Quita and Lenox came in, closely followed by Max
Richardson in uniform.

He had come in from camp not an hour ago; and had ridden over without
changing, in his zeal to shake hands with Lenox and his wife. The
former had endured his congratulations and delight at the news with the
best grace he could muster; and had avoided a word with him alone. Now
he drew up a chair and sat down by Honor: while Quita, pricked to a
passing jealousy by his instant gravitation to her, moved off with Max
Richardson, talking and laughing as if she had known him for years. It
was not her habit to waste time in preliminaries.

"They'll get on splendidly, those two," Honor said, smiling as she
watched them.

"I'll be glad if they do," Lenox answered without enthusiasm; and her
eyes scanned his face.

"You aren't getting on splendidly, though. You look worn to a shadow.
I'm afraid it's been difficult."

"Hideously difficult."

"And you ought both to be so happy, now of all times . . ."

"Yes. That's the exquisitely refined torment of it."

"You haven't been sleeping?"

"No . . . nothing to speak of. But don't give yourself a headache on
my account, dear lady. Desmond would never forgive me! I'm a tough
customer. I shall pull through somehow."

"If you could only bring yourself to talk it over with Theo," she urged
in a lower tone, as he came towards them with Mrs Peters, who flung
shyness to the winds, and fairly took Honor's bre