him, still smiling.

"Shall we go into Dr. West's office and have supper, Phil? I'm on
duty in half an hour and my supper must be ready by this time; and
I'm simply dying to have you make up for the indignity of the
kitchen."

"You ridiculous little thing!"

"No, I'm not. I could weep with rage when I think of _you_ in the
kitchen and--and-- Oh, never mind. Come, will you?" And she held
out her hand.

Her supper was ready, as she had predicted, and she delightedly
made room for him beside her on the bench, and helped him to
freshly baked bread and ancient tinned vegetables, and some
doubtful boiled meat, all of which he ate with an appetite and a
reckless and appreciative abandon that fascinated her.

"Darling!" she whispered in consternation, "don't they give you
_anything_ in camp?"

"Sometimes," he enunciated, chewing vigorously on the bread. "We
don't get much of this, darling. And the onions have all sprouted,
and the potatoes are rotten."

She regarded him for a moment, then laughed hysterically.

"I _beg_ your pardon, Phil, but somehow this reminds me of our cook
feeding her policeman:--just for one tiny second, darling----"

They abandoned any effort to control their laughter. Ailsa had
become transfigured into a deliciously mischievous and bewildering
creature, brilliant of lip and cheek and eye, irresponsible,
provoking, utterly without dignity or discipline.

She taunted him with his appetite, jeered at him for his recent and
marvellous conversion to respectability, dared him to make love to
her, provoked him at last to abandon his plate and rise and start
toward her. And, of course, she fled, crying in consternation:
"Hush, Philip! You _mustn't_ make such a racket or they'll put us
both out!"--keeping the table carefully between them, dodging every
strategy of his, every endeavour to make her prisoner, quick,
graceful, demoralising in her beauty and abandon. They behaved
like a pair of very badly brought up children, until she was in
real terror of discovery.

"Dearest," she pleaded, "if you will sit down and resume your
gnawing on that crust, I'll promise not to torment you. . . . I
will, really. Besides, it's within a few minutes of my tour of
duty----"

She stopped, petrified, as a volley of hoof-beats echoed outside,
the clash of arms and accoutrements rang close by the porch.

"Phil!" she gasped.

And the door opened and Colonel Arran walked in.

There was a dreadful s