him and nestled her head against his
knee.

"I told her to play it! I knew it would bring you at once," she
whispered, caressing him lightly with a long slim hand.

"You shall sing to me afterwards yourself," he said, "a song in
keeping with your appearance to-night. You look like some sort of
elf-maiden in that simple gown and my pearls. Only one touch wanted to
complete the effect!"

With smiling deliberation he drew out four tortoise-shell pins that
upheld the silken lightness of her hair, so that it fell in a fair
soft cloud about her neck and shoulders.

"Theo! How dare you!"

And as she turned her face up to him, in laughing remonstrance, he was
struck anew by the childishness of its contour, in spite of the
pallor, which had become almost habitual of late. Taking it between
his hands he looked steadfastly into the limpid shallows of her eyes,
as though searching for a hidden something which he had little hope to
find.

"Ladybird, what a baby you are still!" he murmured, "I wonder _when_
you mean to grow into a woman?"

Then with a start he became aware that Amar Singh, having entered
noiselessly through the door behind him, stood at his side in a pose
of imperturbable reverence and dignity.

"Olliver Memsahib _ghora per argya_,"[15] he announced with discreetly
lowered lids; while Evelyn, springing up with rose-petal cheeks and a
small sound of dismay, must needs try and look as if ladies in
evening dress habitually wore their hair hanging loose about their
shoulders.

[15] Has come on a horse.

Honor swung round upon the music-stool as Frank Olliver, in evening
skirt and light drill jacket strode into the room.

Before she could bring out her news, a blare of trumpets, sounding the
alarm, startled the quiet of the night, and Desmond leapt to his feet.

"There you are, Theo, man," she said. "You can hear for yourself. It's
a fire in the Lines. Geoff and I caught sight of the flare just now
from our back verandah. He's gone on ahead; but I said I'd look in
here for you."

"Thanks. Tell 'em to saddle the Demon, will you? I'll be ready in two
minutes."

And Mrs Olliver vanished from the room.

As Desmond prepared to follow her, his wife's fingers closed firmly on
the edge of his dinner-jacket.

She was sitting now in the chair he had left; and turned up to him a
face half beseeching, half resentful in its frame of soft hair.

"Why must _you_ go, Theo? There are heaps of others who--aren't
m