he flight of time and among the distractions of gayer
stations than Rohar. Certainly she had flirted herself, flirted
recklessly; but that was a different matter to his faithlessness. She
might do it; but he must not. Did she want him? She hardly knew. But she
was not going to be put aside for this tiger-killing young person, this
jungle girl, who must be taught not to trespass on Violet's property.

Then her mind went back to Rosenthal; and in the solitude of the ladies'
compartment she laughed aloud at the thought of the shock that his
self-sufficiency must have received when he learned of her sudden and
mysterious disappearance from Poona. For she had left him no word. It
would do him good; he needed a lesson, for he was too sure of her. She
had never troubled to analyse her feelings for him and did not know
whether she liked or hated him most. She saw his faults clearly, his
blatant conceit, his irritating belief in the supremacy of money, his
arrogance, his bad manners. She knew that men deemed him a bounder. But
his very boorishness, his savage outbreaks against conventionality,
attracted her. Under the thin veneer of civilisation, he was simply an
animal; she knew it and it appealed to her baser nature, the sensual
strain in her. That he was beast, and wild beast at that, did not
affright her; she felt that she could always dominate him when she
would. Once or twice the beast had come out into the open; but she had
driven it back with a whip--and she believed that she could always do
it. The wealth, the life of luxury that he offered, appealed to her
strongly; but she kept her head and remembered that he was dependent on
his father's bounty, and she had no intention of compromising herself
irretrievably under such circumstances. If he had the disposal of the
old man's immense riches then the temptation might be over-powering; but
until he had she would wait. And ever the memory of Wargrave obtruded
itself, rather to her annoyance; but angry as she was with him she could
not pretend to herself that she was indifferent to him.

Up in Darjeeling on the very day that she left Poona Frank sat with
Miss Benson under a massive, orchid-clad tree in the lovely Botanical
Gardens, gazing moodily down into the depths of the valley far below
them. Turning suddenly he found his companion looking at him. Something
in her eyes moved him strongly and he forgot his caution.

"Muriel, you know how it is with, me," he said impetuou