ccording to Kilshaw's view of
it, a notable triumph for him over his adversary; but he was not a man
to rest content with one victory. He had hardly achieved this success
when a chance word from Captain Heseltine started him in a new
enterprise, and a hint from Sir John Oakapple confirmed him in his
course. He made up his mind not to wait for the slow growth of
disaffection in Coxon's mind, but to accelerate the separation of that
gentleman from his colleagues. The Captain had been pleased to be much
amused at the cessation of Coxon's visits to Government House: Eleanor
Scaife's contempt for her supposed admirer was so strong that, when
playfully taxed with hardness of heart, she repelled the charge with a
vigour that pointed the Captain straight to the real fact. Having
apprehended it, he thought himself in no way bound to observe an
over-strict reticence as to Coxon's "cheek" and his deserved rebuff.

"In fact," he concluded, "love's at a discount. With Coxon and Dick
before one's eyes, it really isn't good enough. All a fellow gets is a
dashed good snubbing or his marching orders." And he added, as if
addressing an imaginary waiter, "Thank you, I'm not taking it to-day."

His words fell on attentive ears, and the next time Kilshaw had a chance
of conversing with Coxon at the Club, he did not forget what he had
learnt from Captain Heseltine.

"How d'you do, Coxon?" said he. "Haven't seen you for a long time. Come
and sit here. You weren't at the Governor's party the other night?"

Coxon, gratified at this cordial greeting, joined Mr. Kilshaw. They were
alone in the Club luncheon-room, and Coxon was always anxious to hear
anything that Sir Robert or his friends had to say. There was always a
possibility that it might be very well worth his while to listen.

"I wasn't there," he said. "I don't go when I can help it."

"You used to be so regular," remarked Kilshaw in surprise, or seeming
surprise.

Coxon gave a laugh of embarrassed vexation.

"I think I go as often as I'm wanted," he said. "To tell you the truth,
Kilshaw, I find my lady a little high and mighty."

"Women can never separate politics and persons," observed Kilshaw, with
a tolerant smile. "It's no secret, I suppose, that she's not devoted to
your chief."

Coxon looked up quickly. His wounded vanity had long sought for an
explanation of the cruel rebuff he had endured.

"Well, I never put it down to that," he said.

"It can't be anything in you