verard is a deuced lucky man."

"What?" said Tommy, and turned deep crimson. "Oh, rot, sir! That's rot!"
He gripped the extended hand with warmth notwithstanding. "It's all the
other way round. I can't tell you what he's been to me. Why, I--I'd die
for him, if I had the chance."

"Yes," Bernard said with simplicity. "I'm sure you would, boy. And it's
just that I like about you. You're just the sort of friend he needs--the
sort of friend God sends along to hold up the lamp when the night is
dark. There! You want to be off. I won't keep you. But you're a white
man yourself, Tommy, and I shan't forget it."

"Oh, rats--rats--rats!" said Tommy rudely, and escaped through the
window at headlong speed.

CHAPTER III

TESSA'S MOTHER

"It really isn't my fault," said Netta fretfully. "I don't see why you
should lecture me about it, Mary. I can't help being attractive."

"My dear," said Mrs. Ralston patiently, "that was not my point. I am
only urging you to show a little discretion. You do not want to be an
object of scandal, I am sure. The finger of suspicion has been pointed
at the Rajah a good many times lately, and I do think that for Tessa's
sake, if not for your own, you ought to put a check upon your intimacy
with him.

"Bother Tessa!" said Netta. "I don't see that I owe her anything."

Mrs. Ralston sighed a little, but she persevered. "The child is at an
age when she needs the most careful training. Surely you want her to
respect you!"

Netta laughed. "I really don't care a straw what she does. Tessa doesn't
interest me. I wanted a boy, you know. I never had any use for girls.
Besides, she gets on my nerves at every turn. We shall never be kindred
spirits."

"Poor little Tessa!" said Mrs. Ralston gently. "She has such a loving
heart."

"She doesn't love me," said Tessa's mother without regret. "I suppose
you'll say that's my fault too. Everything always is, isn't it?"

"I think--in fact I am sure--that love begets love," said Mrs. Ralston.
"Perhaps when you and she get to England together, you will become more
to each other."

"Out of sheer _ennui_?" suggested Netta. "Oh, don't let's talk of
England--I hate the thought of it. I'm sure I was created for the East.
Hence the sympathy that exists between the Rajah and myself. You know,
Mary, you really are absurdly prejudiced against him. Richard was the
same. He never had any cause to be jealous. They simply didn't come into
the same category."

M