she supposed she would be
far too old to care for the frivolities of life at all! If only Theo
would be generous and give her a second chance, she would not let it
slip this time--she would not indeed!

Altogether the aspect of things in general was sufficiently
depressing. Then one afternoon she met Owen Kresney; and all at once
life seemed to take on a new complexion. Here, at least, was some one
who wanted her, when every one else seemed only to want Theo; some one
who was really glad to see her--rather too emphatically glad,
perhaps; but the eagerness of his greeting flattered her, and she had
overlooked the rest. She had been returning in her jhampan from her
melancholy outing to the Club, when he had caught sight of her in the
distance, and cantering up to her side, had dismounted, and shaken
hands as though they had not met for a year.

"How awfully white and pulled down you look!" he had said with
low-toned sympathy. "They must have been working you too hard. They
forget that you are not a strapping woman like Miss Meredith."

"No one has worked me too hard," she answered, flushing at the veiled
implication against her husband. "I wanted to do as much as the
others."

"Of course you did. But you are too delicate to work like that, and it
isn't fair to take advantage of your unselfishness. I hope you're
going off to the Hills very soon, now that Desmond is better?"

"Yes, I hope so too."

Her voice had an unconscious weariness, and he bent a little closer,
scanning her face with a concern that bordered on tenderness. "We have
thought of you a great deal these two weeks, Mrs Desmond," he said.
"We hardly cared to go out to tennis, or anything, while you were in
such trouble. But now it has all come out right, you must be
dreadfully in want of cheering up. Won't you come home with me and
have a talk, like old times? Linda would be awfully pleased to see you
again."

The temptation was irresistible. It emphasised her vague sense of
loneliness, of being left out in the cold. The longing to be comforted
and made much of was strong upon her.

"It is very nice of you to want me," she had said, as simply as a
child. To which he had replied with prompt, if somewhat cheap,
gallantry that no one could possibly help wanting her; and his reward
had been a flush, as delicate in tint as the inner surface of a shell.
This man had one strong point in his favour--he invariably talked to
her about herself; a trick Desmon