ver do.
Anyway, please say the polite and proper things and let's get home as
soon as possible. I'm sure we've done enough to satisfy even Theo by
this time."

And Honor, who would fain have listened to their host for another
half-hour, had no choice but to obey.

"Why, Evelyn," she said, as they left the striped sun and shadow of
the lines, "you never told me that Captain Desmond won his V.C. by
saving the Jemadar's life. I want to hear all about it, please."

Evelyn smiled, and shrugged her shoulders.

"You probably know as much as I do. Theo never _will_ tell about
himself. Besides, in my own heart, I think he was rather foolish to
risk getting killed several times over just for the sake of a
_native_." The scorn that some few Anglo-Indians never lose lurked in
her tone. "Of course it's very nice for him to have the V.C., and I
suppose he thought it was worth while just for that. But I hope he
won't go in for any _more_ things of that sort. There's _me_ to be
considered now."

Such peculiar views on the subject of heroism smote Honor to silence,
and with a hurried murmur that Dilkusha seemed impatient to get home
she set the mare into a trot.

Arrived in the cool dimness of her own drawing-room, Evelyn Desmond
sank gratefully into a chair, her skirts billowing softly about her.

"How refreshing it is here, after that glaring courtyard! This place
is getting too hot already. I _do_ wish Theo would let me go to Simla
again this year. Last season the Walters asked him to let me join
them; and it was simply lovely. Though I didn't half like leaving him
behind; and I suppose I shan't like it much this year either."

"Then why go at all?" suggested practical Honor. "You're not obliged
to. Surely Mrs Olliver stays?"

"Mrs Olliver! She's not a woman! She's a Regimental Institution. I
can't think _what_ the men see in her to make such a fuss about! A
plain, badly-made Irishwoman, who dresses abominably. And she's much
too casual with all of them--especially with Theo, even if she _did_
save his life from typhoid fever."

Honor made no immediate reply. It was only charitable to suppose that
an overdose of sunshine and block tea was responsible for the note of
irritation in Evelyn's tone.

"I suppose you think I ought to imitate her," Mrs Desmond went on,
after an expectant pause. "Kohat is hateful enough in the cold
weather, and with heat and cholera, and flies added, it would kill me
outright! Besides, I don't