eet with a surprise."

"What sort of surprise?" laughed Joyce sceptically.

"I don't know--but you'll remember that I warned you. Meantime, go easy
with your favours. You are rather generous, you know."

Honor was thinking of Joyce's innocent demonstrativeness--inseparable
from herself--which some men might not understand, and the doctor was
but human after all. She had seen her toying with his watch-chain while
arguing against following his advice for the good of her health; leading
him by the hand to visit her baby in its crib; seizing the lapels of his
coat in a moment of eager excitement. On each of these occasions Honor
had been apart from them, an observer at a distance, engaged by others
in conversation and desirous of appearing unconscious of the doctor's
existence. Since the day she had shown silent disapproval of him on the
steps of the Mission Bungalow, he had made no effort to bring about a
better understanding and she was wounded to the quick, though she
steeled herself to show utter indifference. Yet the sight of the doctor
with Joyce in such intimate circumstances--latterly made more so by the
frequent drives--had caused Honor's heart to twist with sudden anguish;
for it was difficult to forget the day at his bungalow when he had
fought for her life and called her the bravest girl he knew. A wordless
sympathy had grown up between them since that day. His eyes had held for
her a special message. Though he was "not seeking her for a wife" she
felt that he had liked her more than a little, and she----?

Now they were less than strangers; and Joyce, beautiful and confiding,
was innocently flattering him with her preference. Where would it end?

While Honor watched the development of Joyce's friendship with Captain
Dalton, she was also aware of a change in Jack. Tommy had drawn her
attention to Mrs. Fox's efforts to enslave Jack, whose own demeanour was
beginning to show that all was not right with him. A new
self-consciousness was apparent in his manner towards her, and he made
blundering efforts to avoid being left alone in her company. He was
evidently afraid of her--afraid of himself, too--because of the evil
impulses her insidious influence had aroused in him.

The fact was, Jack had arrived at a just appreciation of the truism,
"Opportunity makes the thief." His respect for Mrs. Fox had expired
after the episode on her moonlight verandah, and though he had made
excuses for her, he was conscious they