sort, and if they do it's generally pretty disastrous. A woman
who felt she was less than the dust and rust and weeds and all that rot
wouldn't be much good to a man who had to do his job, for she wouldn't
do hers, you know."

"Then you, too, think that's the main thing--to do your job?"

"It seems to me it's the only thing that justifies one's existence.
Anyway, to try to do it decently."

"And you don't think one ought to expect to be happy and have things go
smoothly?"

"Well, they won't always, you know, whether you expect it or not; but
the job remains, so it's just as well to make up your mind to it."

"I suppose," Jan said thoughtfully, "that's a religion."

"It pans out as well as most," said Peter.

The days that had gone so slowly went quickly enough now. Jan had much
to arrange and no word came from Hugo. She succeeded in getting the
monthly bills from the cook, and paid them, and very timidly she asked
Peter if she might pay the wages for the time his servants had waited
upon them; but Peter was so huffy and cross she never dared to mention
it again.

The night before they all sailed Peter dined with her, and, after
dinner, took her for one last drive over Malabar Hill. The moon was
full, and when they reached Ridge Road he stopped the car and they got
out and stood on the cliff, looking over the city just as they had done
on her first evening in Bombay.

Some scented tree was in bloom and the air was full of its soft
fragrance.

For some minutes they stood in silence, then Jan broke it by asking:
"Mr. Ledgard, could Hugo take the children from me?"

"He could, of course, legally--but I don't for a minute imagine he will,
for he couldn't keep them. What about his people? Will they want to
interfere?"

"I don't think so; from the little he told us they are not very well
off. They live in Guernsey. His father was something in salt, I think,
out here. We've none of us seen them. They didn't come to Fay's
wedding. I gather they are very strict in their views--both his father
and mother--and there are two sisters. But Fay said Hugo hardly ever
wrote--or heard from them."

"There's just one thing you must face, Miss Ross," and Peter felt a
brute as he looked at Jan pale and startled in the bright moonlight.
"Hugo Tancred might marry again."

"Oh, surely no one would marry him after all this!"

"Whoever did would probably know nothing of 'all this.' Remember Hugo
Tancred has a way with women; h