ke it out. You see, although she was only married for a
day, the defunct tradesman husband rather overshadows her father's
splendid career--old Bob Hetth, V.C., you remember. It _would_ in this
caste-bound country. Caste amongst _us_, ye gods! Then her clothes are
really lovely, oh! ripping! make Chowringhee confections look as though
they'd come from the _durzi_ or the Lal Bazaar. And it seems that she's
living on her capital, and that her hair curls naturally----"

The other man laughed out loud.

"Oh! you needn't laugh. Wait until you've been stationed as long as I
have in Calcutta, then you'll----"

Leonie had turned and was coming up at a gentle trot.

"Gad! isn't she beautiful?" said the newcomer.

"Yes! I think that's _really_ her trouble," replied Thorne as he moved
to meet her.

"Good morning, and don't come too near the Devil. We were out in the fog
this morning and it has made him as touchy as anything. Isn't it a
simply perfect morning!"

For a moment she sat and looked at the funnels and masts swarming the
placid Hoogli, turned her head as a far-away siren announced the arrival
of a liner, gave a little sigh as she looked up at a kite sailing
care-free overhead, and came back to earth with a smile.

"How d'you do," she smiled, upon the introduction of the other man. "And
don't come too near the Devil, he's nervy; in fact I think he will burst
with suppressed energy if I keep him standing longer. Shall we canter as
far--oh!----"

"Hell!" finished Thorne after his kind, causing the corners of Leonie's
beautiful mouth to lift as she raised a reproving finger.

The razor-tongued, most feared and detested colonel mem-sahib of the
line, in the whole of India, rode up with a seat which would not have
disgraced the sands of Margate.

Thinking that she might as well share the pig-skin, she had, upon her
husband attaining his majority, taken a dozen riding lessons somewhere
near Regent's Park; had hacked irregularly ever since, and still, when
off her equine guard, talked about a horse's ankles.

"Don't come too near the Devil, Mrs. Hudson, he's _so_ fidgety."

"Nonsense!" brusquely replied the lady as she nodded to the men. "It's
you who are fidgety; comes of all your sleep-walking, brain fag or
whatever you call it; you've--you've inoculated the poor darling," she
added, clapping her hand on the Devil's hind-quarters.

Thorne made an ineffectual grab as the Devil reared so straight that