amazing one, at any rate, for he happened to know that Hermia's mind, as
far as the veriest rudiments of education were concerned, was pretty
nearly a blank. How on earth, then, did she contrive to impart
instruction to others? He did not believe she could, only that she had
succeeded in humbugging these people most thoroughly.

Then they had manoeuvred Lyn to the piano, and got her to sing, but
Hilary, leaning back in his chair, thought that somehow it did not seem
the same as up there in her own home, when night after night he had sat
revelling in the sweet, clear, true notes. And then the other two,
entering from their moonlight stroll, had subsided into a corner
together. The sight reminded him of Spence, who must needs make an open
book of his callow, silly face. Percival was doing the same.

"Just as I thought," he said to himself, an hour later, as under cover
of all the interchange of good nights, he managed to slip away for a
moment to investigate the contents of the mysterious paper. "`Meet
to-morrow and have an explanation, or I may regret it all my life.'
Um--ah! very likely I shall do that in any case. Still, I'm curious
about the explanation part of it myself, so meet we will."

"Come along, old chap," said Percival, grabbing him by the arm. "You've
got to doss down in my diggings, and we'll have a good round jaw until
we feel sleepy. Phew! it's cold!" he added, as they got out on to the
stoep--for Percival's room was at the end of the stoep, and was quite
shut off from the house. The moonlit veldt stretched away in dim beauty
around, its stillness broken by the weird yelp of hunting jackals, or
the soft whistle of the invisible plover overhead.

They had been talking of all sorts of indifferent things. Blachland
knew, however, that the other wanted to talk on a subject that was not
indifferent, and was shy to lead up to it. He must help him through
directly, because he didn't want to be awake all night. But when they
had turned in and had lit their pipes for a final smoke, Percival
began--

"I say, Hilary, what do you think of that Mrs Fenham?"

"Rather short acquaintance to give an opinion upon, isn't it?"

"No. Skittles! But I say, old chap, she's devilish fetching, eh?"

"So you seem to find. It strikes me, Percy, you're making a goodish bit
of running in that quarter. Look out."

The other laughed good-humouredly, happily in fact.

"Why `look out?' I mean making running th