more, or you'll get ill
again, and then Honor will be really angry!"

"Oh, shut up about Honor!" he broke out irritably; and set his teeth
directly the words were spoken.

Evelyn started. "I won't shut up about Honor! I love her, and you're
very ungrateful not to love her too, when she's been so good to you."

She spoke almost angrily, and he made haste to rectify his slip.

"No. I'm not ungrateful. I--love her right enough."

He thought the statement would have choked him. But Evelyn noticed
nothing, and for a while neither spoke.

"Look here, Ladybird," he said suddenly, "I can't have you calling
yourself names as you did just now. You only get these notions into
your small head because I have condemned you to a life that makes
demands on you beyond your strength. I ought to have seen from the
start that it was a case of choosing between the Frontier and you. At
all events, I see it clearly now; and--it's not too late. One can
always exchange into a down-country regiment, you know. Or I have
interest enough to get a Staff appointment somewhere--Simla, perhaps.
How would that suit you?"

The suggestion took away her breath.

"You don't _mean_ that, Theo--seriously?" she gasped; and the
repressed eagerness in her tone sounded the death-knell of his dearest
ambitions.

"I was never more serious in my life," he answered steadily.

"You would leave the Frontier--the regiment--and never come back?"

"You have only to say the word, and as soon as I am on my feet again
I'll see what can be done."

But the word was not forthcoming; and in her changed position he could
see nothing of her face but its oval outline of cheek and chin. He
waited; holding his breath. Then, at last, she spoke.

"No, Theo. It wouldn't be fair. You belong to the Frontier. Every one
says so. And--I shall get used to it in time."

She spoke mechanically, without turning her head; and Desmond's arm
went round her on the instant.

"But you haven't got to think of me," he urged. "I want to do what
will make you happy. That's all."

"It--it wouldn't make me happy. And, please, don't talk about it any
more."

At that he drew her down to him.

"God bless you, my darling!" he whispered. But even in speaking he
knew that he could not accept her sacrifice; that her courage--barely
equal to the verbal renunciation--would be crushed to powder in the
crucible of days and years. For the moment, however, it seemed best to
drop the subject, sinc