ath away by kissing
her on both cheeks.

Desmond's 'select few' amounted to less than a dozen. Honor's sofa was
the centre of attraction; and her sympathetic spirit thrilled in
response to the friendliness that glowed, like a jewel, at the heart of
everyday talk and laughter. For the past fortnight of pain and stress
seemed to have drawn them all indefinably closer to one another: which
is the true mission of pain and stress in this very human world.

Later in the evening there were light sports on the Cavalry
parade-ground, which Meredith, Desmond, and Olliver were bound to
attend; Wyndham and half a dozen others remaining behind.

Courtenay, on his way to the door, remarked to Lenox that a short
outing would do him no harm; and Quita, who chanced to be standing at
his elbow, pressed lightly against him.

"Drive me down, dear," she said softly. "I should love it." And since
he had avoided her for the greater part of the morning, he could not
well refuse.

"I like your 'Dick,' Eldred," she informed him, as they bowled along
the wide straight road. "He is _bon garcon_, through and through. Not
brilliant, perhaps: but quick, appreciative, and he can talk."

"Yes: Dick's a real good sort. Glad you approve of him. And as for
talking . . . _you_ could draw conversation out of a stone wall!"

"I don't always succeed with the one I am leaning against just now!"

"Well, I'll swear it's not your fault if you fail," he answered,
smiling down upon her with such unfathomable sadness in his eyes, that
she cried out involuntarily, between vexation and despair--

"Oh, _mon Dieu_, is it always going to be like this between us? Is
there nothing I can do to make you happy again?"

"Nothing just at present, worse luck," he said grimly, looking straight
ahead: for in the face of such an appeal he could hardly confess his
desperate need to be left alone. "It's a question of time, as I told
you, and my own strength of will. But if the situation becomes too
intolerable for you, there is always the last resort of overstepping
the limit, and setting you free for good."

Quita could not know how cruelly ill he had slept since her coming, nor
how little a man tortured by insomnia can be held responsible for his
utterances; and the significance of his last words so startled her that
she clutched his arm.

"Eldred . . . Eldred, promise me you'll never even think of such a
thing . . . never!"

He winced under her touch. "