"I'll tell you if you want to know," said Monck abruptly. "It's the law
of the pack to rend an outsider. And your sister will always be
that--married or otherwise. They may fawn upon her later, Dacre being
one to hold his own with women. But they will always hate her in their
hearts. You see, she is beautiful."

"Is she?" said Tommy in surprise. "Do you know, I never thought of
that!"

Monck laughed--a cold, sardonic laugh. "Quite so! You wouldn't! But
Dacre has--and a few more of us."

"Oh, confound Dacre!" Tommy's irritation returned with a rush. "I detest
the man! He behaves as if he were conferring a favour. When he was
making that speech to-night, I wanted to fling my glass at him."

"Ah, but you mustn't do those things." Monck spoke reprovingly. "You may
be young, but you're past the schoolboy stage. Dacre is more of a
woman's favourite than a man's, you must remember. If your sister is not
in love with him, she is about the only woman in the station who isn't."

"That's the disgusting part of it," fumed Tommy. "He makes love to
every woman he meets."

They had reached a shadowy compound that bordered the dusty road for a
few yards. A little eddying wind made a mysterious whisper among its
thirsty shrubs. The bungalow it surrounded showed dimly in the
starlight, a wooden structure with a raised verandah and a flight of
steps leading up to it. A light thrown by a red-shaded lamp shone out
from one of the rooms, casting a shaft of ruddy brilliance into the