ap, and sat very
still. She had lost all thought of her companion in the joy of
interpretation; but Desmond's voice at her side recalled her to
reality.

"Thank you," he said. "I haven't heard it played like _that_ ... for
five years. If you can do much of this sort of thing you'll find me
insatiable. We're bound to be good friends at this rate, and I see no
reason why we should not comply with Ladybird's request to us. Do you,
... Honor?"

She started and flushed at the sound of her name; then turned her
clear eyes full upon him, the shadow of a smile lifting the rebellious
corners of her mouth.

"No reason at all, ... in good time, Captain Desmond."

He returned her look with an equal deliberation.

"Is that a hint to me to keep my distance?"

"No. Only to ... 'go slow,' if you'll forgive the expressive slang.
It's so much wiser in the long-run."

"Is it? Bad luck for me. I've never managed it yet, and I doubt if I
ever shall. The men of my squadron call me _Bijli-wallah Sahib_,[7]
and I didn't earn the name by going slow, ... Miss Meredith. If I have
been overbold, your music was to blame. But Ladybird seemed to wish
it; and, believe me, I did _not_ mean it to seem like impertinence.
Why, there she is herself, bless her; and we're neither of us ready
for breakfast!"

[7] _Bijli_--lightning.

CHAPTER IV.

ESPECIALLY WOMEN.

"We are fearfully and wonderfully made--especially women."
--THACKERAY.

The afternoon sunlight flung lengthening shadows across the cavalry
Lines, where men and native officers alike were housed in
mud-plastered huts, innocent of windows; and where life was beginning
to stir anew after the noontide tranquillity of the East.

The eighty horses of each troop stood, picketed with ample lengths of
head and heel rope, between the lines of huts occupied by their
sowars; while at the permanently open doorways squatted the men
themselves,--Sikhs, Punjabi-Mahomedans, Pathans, each troop composed
entirely of one or the other,--smoking, gambling, or putting final
touches to their toilet in the broad light of day. The native officers
alone aspired to a certain degree of privacy. Their huts were detached
a little space from those that guarded the horses; and flimsy walls of
grass matting, set around them, imparted a suggestion of dignity and
aloofness from the common herd.

The hut of Jemadar Alla Dad Khan, of the Pathan troop of