burning breath from a far-off forest-fire which
hourly drew a little nearer. Stella sometimes felt as if a monster-hand
were slowly closing upon her, crushing out her life.

But still with all her might she strove to hide from Monck the ravages
of the cruel heat, even stooping to the bitter subterfuge of faintly
colouring the deathly whiteness of her cheeks. For the wild-rose bloom
had departed long since, as Netta Ermsted had predicted, though her
beauty remained--the beauty of the pure white rose which is fairer than
any other flower that grows.

There came a burning day at last, however, when she realized that the
evening drive was almost beyond her powers. Tommy was on duty at the
barracks. Everard had, she believed, gone down to Khanmulla to see
Barnes of the Police. She decided in the absence of both to indulge in a
rest, and sent Peter to countermand the carriage.

Then a great heaviness came upon her, and she yielded herself to it,
lying inert upon the couch in the drawing-room dully listening to the
creak of the punkah that stirred without cooling the late afternoon air.

Some time must have passed thus and she must have drifted into a species
of vague dreaming that was not wholly sleep when suddenly there came a
sound at the darkened window; the blind was lifted and Monck stood in
the opening.

She sprang up with a startled sense of being caught off her guard, but
the next moment a great dizziness came upon her and she reeled back,
groping for support.

He dropped the blind and caught her. "Why, Stella!" he said.

She clung to him desperately. "I am all right--I am all right! Hold me a
minute! I--I tripped against the matting." Gaspingly she uttered the
words, hanging upon him, for she knew she could not stand alone.

He put her gently down upon the sofa. "Take it quietly, dear!" he said.

She leaned back upon the cushions with closed eyes, for her brain was
swimming. "I am all right," she reiterated. "You startled me a little.
I--didn't expect you back so soon."

"I met Barnes just after I started," he made answer. "He is coming to
dine presently."

Her heart sank. "Is he?" she said faintly.

"No." Monck's tone suddenly held an odd note that was half-grim and
half-protective. "On second thoughts, he can go to the Mess with Tommy.
I don't think I want him any more than you do."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Everard, of course he must
dine here if you have asked him! Tell Peter!"