h.

"Dear, there is only one decision possible. But for me you might never
have put your hand to that plough. It was the one good that came to
you through my crowning act of folly; and I'll not undo it, whatever it
may mean--for me."

He thanked her with his eyes; and the mute homage in them was dearer to
her than a score of kisses. When he tried to speak, she forestalled
him.

"You have said it all, Eldred. I understand. I only want--more facts.
Is it Gilgit? And when?"

"Next year, I'm afraid. They want us to re-establish the
Agency--Travers and myself. I was up there, you see, before I found
you again. We should be quite alone, at the start, with just a doctor
and our Kashmiri soldiers."

"And I--it would be impossible?"

He pressed her hands.

"For the first few years--certainly. Everything would be raw; and the
work incessant and absorbing. But later on, who can tell? We might
see what could be done."

"And the nearest I could get to you, so as to live more or less within
reach?"

"Srinagar. That's about twenty days' march from Gilgit. I could do it
in ten, to get to you!" he added, smiling. "Spare time would be
scarce, though; and in the winter we should be quite cut off by snow."

"Oh, Eldred!"

"I should hate that no less than you, be sure. But when things got a
bit more settled, some sort of arrangement might be possible, at least
for part of the summer; if you could really stand the isolation and the
life."

"Stand it? Of course I could. I should love it."

His eyes lit up.

"You have pluck enough for half a dozen! But you don't look as strong
as you did. There's a fragile air about you that troubles me. I never
saw it before."

The faint colour in her cheeks invaded her temples. It was the given
moment; long enough delayed in all conscience. Yet it found her
palpitating--unprepared.

"You mustn't be troubled." She plunged desperately; unsure of what
would come next. "It will pass. I am growing stronger every day."

"Stronger? Good Lord! You haven't been ill too, and I never knew it?"

"No--oh, no! Not ill--that is . . . not exactly. I mean . . ."

Confusion submerged her. His shoulder--the woman's legitimate
refuge--was conveniently close; and she buried her blushes in it. At
that a suspicion of the truth thrilled through him, like an electric
current.

"Quita--look up--speak to me!" he besought her; his voice low, and not
quite steady. "Is it poss