With him at least her power to attract was paramount. He was blindly,
almost fulsomely, in love. Her beauty went to his head from the outset;
it fired his blood. He worshipped her hotly, and pursued her untiringly,
caring little whether she returned his devotion so long as he ultimately
took possession. And when finally, half-disdainfully, she yielded to his
insistence, his one all-mastering thought became to clinch the bargain
before she could repent of it. It was a mad and headlong passion that
drove him--not for the first time in his life; and the subtle pride of
her and the soft reserve made her all the more desirable in his eyes.

He had won her; he did not stop to ask himself how. The women said that
the luck was all on her side. The men forebore to express an opinion.
Dacre had attained his captaincy, but he was not regarded with great
respect by any one. His fellow-officers shrugged their shoulders over
him, and the commanding officer, Colonel Mansfield, had been heard to
call him "the craziest madman it had ever been his fate to meet." No
one, except Tommy, actively disliked him, and he had no grounds for so
doing, as Monck had pointed out. Monck, who till then had occupied the
same bungalow, declared he had nothing against him, and he was surely in
a position to form a very shrewd opinion. For Monck was neither fool nor
madman, and there was very little that escaped his silent observation.

He was acting as best man at the morrow's ceremony, the function having
been almost thrust upon him by Dacre who, oddly enough, shared
something of Tommy's veneration for his very reticent brother-officer.
There was scant friendship between them. Each had been accustomed to go
his own way wholly independent of the other. They were no more than
casual acquaintances, and they were content to remain such. But
undoubtedly Dacre entertained a certain respect for Monck and observed a