triumph was complete.

"No hurry," he assured her gently. "You're very shaky still, you
know."

But she stiffened at the cautious tightening of his arm, and stumbled
forward, so that he had some ado to repress his irritation.

He lifted her to the saddle; and, seemingly oblivious that he had
offered himself as a mere prop, took such full advantage of the
permission to support her till they reached the bungalow, that she was
vaguely troubled, though too dazed and shaken to attempt further
remonstrance.

"May I come in?" he asked, as he set her on the ground.

"Yes, please come. Won't you stay to dinner?"

"I should like to, awfully."

"Very well then, do."

She managed to walk into the drawing-room; but as he laid her on the
sofa, her head fell limply backward, and she fainted.

He stood watching her intently for a few seconds. Then he bent over
her, low and lower, till his lips almost rested upon hers. But at this
point something checked his despicable impulse--perhaps the purity of
her face, or merely its unresisting stillness. Perhaps he chose to
defer the pleasure till a more acceptable moment. He straightened
himself with a jerk; and hastening into the hall, shouted for brandy
and soda-water.

Very soon a faint colour crept back into her cheeks. She opened her
eyes and smiled up at him.

"Drink some of this," he said. "It's very weak, and you need it."

She took a few sips and set down the glass.

"Better now?" he asked, and leaned over her again, his hand on the
sofa back, his lips perilously close to her hair. At that critical
moment, Wyndham's tall figure appeared in the doorway, closely
followed by Honor Meredith.

Kresney's back was towards him; and the tableau presented by the pair
was equivocal, to say the least of it. For an instant Paul stood still
in sheer stupefaction; then he turned to the girl, his grey eyes
ablaze with indignation, and she had never liked him better than at
that moment.

As he stepped forward, Kresney started up with a stifled oath; and the
two men confronted one another, in silent, undisguised hostility,
while Honor hurried to Evelyn's side.

"What is wrong with Mrs Desmond?" Paul asked coldly, concealing his
natural anxiety for Theo's wife.

"Oh, she has had a spill. The mare came down with her; and she fainted
when I got her home."

Kresney's pronounced frigidity was more ludicrous than impressive;
and the shadow of a smile lurked beneath Paul's moustache