oning prejudice of her race. She hated as she
loved, wholesale, and without reason. She could make no shadow of
excuse for Evelyn Desmond; and was only restrained from speaking out
her mind by a wholesome fear of her own temper, and a desire to avoid
a serious breach with Theo Desmond's wife. But with Honor it was
otherwise. Honor, she maintained, had a right to speak, and no right
to be silent; and goaded thus, the girl did at length make a tentative
effort at remonstrance.

But upon her first words Evelyn flushed hotly.

"For goodness' sake, Honor, don't start interfering again!" she said,
in a tone which effectually quenched further discussion.

Thus, without definite intention, they drifted a little apart. Honor,
haunted by a sense of having failed Theo at a time of need, found what
consolation she might in her growing intimacy with Paul Wyndham; while
Evelyn went on her way unchallenged, blind to every consideration but
the need of escape from the haunting dread that she would never see
her husband again. The dissonance between her feelings and her actions
troubled her no whit. Her notions of loyalty were peculiar and
inconsistent, like herself; and it is probable that she never gave a
thought to Kresney's interpretation of her conduct, or to the
dangerous nature of the game she was playing.

The man himself was well content, and increasingly self-satisfied. He
could be an intelligent and mildly amusing companion, when it served
his turn; and he was beginning to lose sight of Desmond in keen
enjoyment of the oldest pastime in the world. They fell into
occasional spells of silence now as they rode--silence such as
familiarity breeds, and which is not without a degree of danger at a
certain stage of intimacy between a man and a woman.

They had been riding thus, for some time, on an afternoon of early
March. Their horses' heads had been turned homeward; for the sun was
near to setting, and on the Frontier it is unsafe to be out after
dusk. Evelyn's reins lay loose upon the grey mare's neck and her long
lashes shadowed her cheek. She seemed to have forgotten her
companion's presence. Kresney's eyes rested speculatively on her
finely chiselled profile. He found her, on close acquaintance, more
charming than he had expected. She possessed an elusiveness that
captivates more surely than beauty. A man could never feel quite
certain of her. She had not been in a very "coming-on disposition"
that afternoon. His intere