mstances, it seems ungracious to refuse. It would cheer the old
man up. And it goes without saying that Honor would be glad to see us
again."

The last appeal roused Desmond effectually. He jerked himself upright
and faced his friend; faced also the ordeal of open speech after
months of evasion.

"Yes--yes. You're always right, old man," he said, eyes and voice
superbly under control. "I'm a selfish brute to monopolise you
and--er--stand in your light. A sight of you will do them all good;
and _you'll_ be glad to see--Honor again. I used to wonder--long
ago--what hindered you from fixing things up--you two."

It was Paul's turn now to start and change colour.

"You wondered?" he echoed blankly; then his voice dropped a tone.
"Well, Theo, since you've touched on the subject, I'd as soon you knew
the truth. I--spoke to Honor last March, while you were away; and--she
refused."

"Refused--_you?_"

In that flash of amazement and sympathy with his friend's pain,
Desmond escaped, if only for a moment, from the tyranny of his own
tormented soul. His gaze travelled back to the hills.

"I'd have given her credit for more perception," he said quietly; and
Paul, regarding him with a whimsical tenderness: "Has love anything to
do with that sort of thing?"

"No--no. I'm a blatant fool. But still--a man like you----!" He broke
off short, and there was a moment of strained silence. But the real
Desmond was awake at last, and he forced himself to add: "Women change
sometimes--once they know. Have you never been tempted to try again?"

"No; and never shall be, for a very good reason. There's some one in
the way--some other man----"

Desmond drew in his breath sharply.

"Good Lord!" he muttered in a low dazed voice, as if thinking aloud.
"But where the deuce _is_ he? Why hasn't he come forward? He must be a
rotten sort of chap----"

Paul caressed his moustache to hide a smile. "Not necessarily Theo. I
gather, from what she said that--there were difficulties----"

"Difficulties--?" Again he broke off, stunned by the coincidence, yet
incapable of suspecting the truth. Then, pulling himself together, his
spoke in his natural voice: "Well, anyway, Paul, _you'd_ better accept
Sir John's invitation, since you can still manage to be friends with
her in spite of that infernal chap in the background."

This time Paul smiled outright; but Desmond saw nothing. His chin sunk
in his hand, he sat still as a rock, raging inwardly--as h