ood enough, isn't it?"

A vigorous handshake supplied the rest; and Desmond trotted forward to
the dog-cart, where Evelyn greeted him with a rush of congratulation.
Honor had no word, but Desmond found her eyes and smile sufficiently
eloquent.

"Best fight, bar none, I ever had in my life!" he declared by way of
acknowledgment. "We're all off to the B.C. Mess as soon as the L.G.
has presented the Cup, and we've got some of the dust out of our
throats. Come along, Paul, old man."

And he went his way in such elation of spirits as a captain may justly
feel whose team has carried off the Punjab Cup in the face of
overwhelming odds.

CHAPTER XVI.

SIGNED AND SEALED.

"Leave the dead moments to bury their dead;
Let us kiss, and break the spell."
--OWEN MEREDITH.

The Fancy Ball, given on Old Year's night by the Punjab Commission,
was, in Evelyn's eyes, the supreme event of the week; and when
Desmond, after a mad gallop from the Bengal Cavalry Mess, threw open
his bedroom door, he was arrested by a vision altogether unexpected,
and altogether satisfying to his fastidious taste.

A transformed Evelyn stood before the long glass, wrapt in happy
contemplation of her own image. From the fillet across her forehead,
with its tremulous wire antennae, to the sandalled slipper that showed
beneath her silken draperies, all was gold. Two shimmering wings of
gauze sprang from her shoulders; her hair, glittering with gold dust,
waved to her waist; and a single row of topaz gleamed on the pearl
tint of her throat like drops of wine.

"By Jove, Ladybird,--how lovely you look!"

She started, and turned upon him a face of radiance.

"I'm the Golden Butterfly. Do you like me, Theo, really?"

"I do;--no question. Where on earth did you get it all?"

"At Simla, last year. Muriel Walter invented it for me." Her colour
deepened, and she lowered her eyes. "I didn't show it to you
before,--because----"

"Yes, yes,--I know what you mean. Don't distress yourself over that.
You'll have _your_ triumph to-night, Ladybird! Remember my dances,
please, when you're besieged by the other fellows! Upon my word, you
look such a perfect butterfly that I shall hardly dare lay a hand on
you!"

"You may dare, though," she said softly. "I won't break in pieces if
you do."

Shy invitation lurked in her look and tone; but apparently her husband
failed to perceive it.

"I'll put you to the test l