eally superb."

"Thank you, dear," said Mrs. Ralston.

She returned the impulsive kiss bestowed upon her with a funny look in
her blue eyes that might almost have been compassionate if it had not
been so unmistakably humorous. She did not attempt to make the embrace a
lingering one, however, and Netta Ermsted took her impetuous departure
with a piqued sense of uncertainty.

"I wonder if she really has got any brains after all," she said aloud,
as she sped away in her "rickshaw." "She is a quaint creature anyhow. I
rather wonder that I bother myself with her."

At which juncture she met the Rajah, resplendent in green _puggarree_
and riding his favourite bay Arab, and forthwith dismissed Mrs. Ralston
and all discreet counsels to the limbo of forgotten things. She had
dubbed the Rajah her Arabian Knight. His name for her was of too
intimate an order to be pronounced in public. She was the Lemon-scented
Lily of his dreams.

CHAPTER II

THE RETURN

Stella's first impression of Bhulwana was the extremely European
atmosphere that pervaded it. Bungalows and pine-woods seemed to be its
main characteristics, and there was about it none of the languorous
Eastern charm that had so haunted the forbidden paradise. Bhulwana was a
cheerful place, and though perched fairly high among the hills of
Markestan it was possible to get very hot there. For this reason perhaps
all the energies of its visitors were directed towards the organizing of
gaieties, and in the height of the summer it was very gay indeed.

The Rajah's summer palace, white and magnificent, occupied the brow of
the hill, and the bungalows that clustered among the pines below it
looked as if there had been some competition among them as to which
could get the nearest.

The Ralstons' bungalow was considerably lower down the hill. It stood
upon more open ground than most, and overlooked the race-course some
distance below. It was an ugly little place, and the small compound
surrounding it was a veritable wilderness. It had been named "The Grand
Stand" owing to its position, but no one less racy than its present
occupant could well have been found. Mrs. Ralston's wistful blue eyes
seldom rested upon the race-course. They looked beyond to the
mist-veiled plains.

The room she had prepared for Stella's reception looked in an easterly
direction towards the winding, wooded road that led up to the Rajah's
residence. Great care had been expended upon it. Her he