ing her. "You, Stella!" he said. "You
are as ageless as the stars."

She laughed faintly, not yielding herself to the closer pressure though
not actually resisting it. "That is merely a form of telling me that I
am much older than I seem," she said. "And you are quite right. I am."

His arm compelled her. "You are you," he said. "And you are so divinely
young and beautiful that there is no measuring you by ordinary
standards. They all know it. That is why you weren't received into the
community with open arms. You are utterly above and beyond them all."

She flinched slightly at the allusion. "I hope I am not so extraordinary
as all that," she said.

His arm became insistent. "You are unique," he said. "You are superb."

There was passion barely suppressed in his hold and a sudden swift
shiver went through her. "Oh, Ralph," she said, "don't--- don't worship
me too much!"

Her voice quivered in its appeal, but somehow its pathos passed him by.
He saw only her beauty, and it thrilled every pulse in his body.
Fiercely almost, he strained her to him. And he did not so much as
notice that her lips trembled too piteously to return his kiss, or that
her submission to his embrace was eloquent of mute endurance rather than
glad surrender. He stood as a conqueror on the threshold of a newly
acquired kingdom and exulted over the splendour of its treasures because
it was all his own.

It did not even occur to him to doubt that her happiness fully equalled
his. Stella was a woman and reserved; but she was happy enough, oh, she
was happy enough. With complacence he reflected that if every man in the
mess envied him, probably every woman in the station would have gladly
changed places with her. Was he not Fortune's favourite? What happier
fate could any woman desire than to be his bride?

CHAPTER V

THE DREAM

It was a fortnight after the wedding, on an evening of intense heat,
that Everard Monck, now established with Tommy at The Green Bungalow,
came in from polo to find the mail awaiting him. He sauntered in through
the verandah in search of a drink which he expected to find in the room
which Stella during her brief sojourn had made more dainty and artistic
than the rest, albeit it had never been dignified by the name of
drawing-room. There was light green matting on the floor and there were
also light green cushions in each of the long wicker chairs. Curtains of
green gauze hung before the windows, and the fierc