could really lean over, though Fay tried, in
her eagerness to attract the attention of the little group. Jan watched
her sister's face and again felt that cruel constriction of the throat
that holds back tears. Fay's tired eyes were so sad, so out of keeping
with the cheerful movement of her hand, so shadowed by some knowledge
she could not share.

"You mustn't stand here without a hat," she said, turning to go in. "The
sun is getting hot. You must get a topee this afternoon. Peter will take
you and help to choose it."

"Couldn't you come, if we took a little carriage? Does driving tire you
when it's cool?" Jan asked as she followed her sister back into the
room.

"I never go out," Fay said decidedly. "I never shall again ... I mean,"
she added, "till it's all over. I couldn't bear it just now--I might
meet someone I know."

"But, Fay, it's very bad for you to be always indoors. Surely, in the
early morning or the evening--you'll come out then?"

Fay shook her head. "Peter has taken me out in the motor once or twice
at night--but I don't really like it. It makes me so dreadfully tired.
Don't worry me about that, Jan. I get plenty of air in the verandah.
It's just as pretty there as in your balcony, and we can have
comfortable chairs. Let's go there now. _You_ shall go out as much as
you like. I'll send Lalkhan with you, or Ayah and the children; and
Peter will take you about all he can--he promised he would. Don't think
I want to be selfish and keep you here with me all the time."

The flat, weak voice, so nervous, so terrified lest her stronger sister
should force her to some course of action she dreaded, went to Jan's
heart.

"My dear," she said gently, "I haven't come here to rush about. I've
come to be with you. We'll do exactly what you like best."

Fay clung to her again and whispered, "Later on you'll understand
better--I'll be able to tell you things, and perhaps you'll understand
... though I'm not sure--you're not weak like me, you'd never go under
... you'd always fight...."

There was a pattering of small feet in the passage. Little high voices
called for "Mummy," and the children came in.

Tony, a grave-eyed, pale-faced child of five, came forward instantly,
with his hand held out far in front of him. Jan, who loved little
children, knew in a minute that he was afraid she would kiss him; so she
shook hands with gentlemanly stiffness. Little Fay, on the contrary, ran
forward, held up her arms "t