a pig!" she cried, and tore her hands free. "I've a
good mind to run away from you and never come back. It's what you
deserve, and what you'll get, if you aren't careful!"

She was gone with the words--gone like a flashing insect disturbing the
silence for a moment, and leaving a deeper silence behind.

Merryon looked after her for a second or two, and then philosophically
continued his meal. But the slight frown remained between his brows. The
veranda seemed empty and colourless now that she was gone.

CHAPTER IV

FRIENDS

The Burtons' dinner-party was a very cheerful affair. The Burtons were
young and newly married, and they liked to gather round them all the
youth and gaiety of the station. It was for that reason that Puck's
presence had been secured, for she was the life of every gathering; and
her husband had been included in the invitation simply and solely
because from the very outset she had refused to go anywhere without him.
It was the only item of her behaviour of which worthy Mrs. Paget could
conscientiously approve.

As a matter of fact Merryon had not the smallest desire to go, but he
would not say so; and all through the evening he sat and watched his
young wife with a curious hunger at his heart. He hated to think that he
had hurt her.

There was no sign of depression about Puck, however, and he alone
noticed that she never once glanced in his direction. She kept everyone
up to a pitch of frivolity that certainly none would have attained
without her, and an odd feeling began to stir in Merryon, a sensation of
jealousy such as he had never before experienced. They seemed to
forget, all of them, that this flashing, brilliant creature was his.

She seemed to have forgotten it also. Or was it only that deep-seated,
inimitable coquetry of hers that prompted her thus to ignore him?

He could not decide; but throughout the evening the determination grew
in him to make this one point clear to her. Trifle as she might, she
must be made to understand that she belonged to him, and him alone.
Comrades they might be, but he held a vested right in her, whether he
chose to assert it or not.

They returned at length to their little gimcrack bungalow--the
Match-box, as Puck called it--on foot under a blaze of stars. The
distance was not great, and Puck despised rickshaws.

She flitted by his side in her airy way, chatting inconsequently, not
troubling about response, as elusive as a fairy and--the ma