necessity to make any sudden decision. The whole of her life lay before
her, a dreary waste of desert. It did not seem to matter at that stage
where she spent those first forlorn months. She was tired to the soul of
her, and only wanted to rest.

She hoped vaguely that Mrs. Ralston would have the tact to respect this
wish of hers. Her impression of this the only woman who had shown her
any kindness since her arrival in India was not of a very definite
order. Mrs. Ralston with her faded prettiness and gentle, retiring ways
did not possess a very arresting personality. No one seeing her two or
three times could have given any very accurate description of her. Lady
Harriet had more than once described her as a negligible quantity. But
Lady Harriet systematically neglected everyone who had no pretensions to
smartness. She detested all dowdy women.

But Stella still remembered with gratitude the warmth of affectionate
admiration and sympathy that had melted her coldness on her wedding-day,
and something within her, notwithstanding her utter weariness, longed to
feel that warmth again. Though she scarcely realized it, she wanted the
clasp of motherly arms, shielding her from the tempest of life.

Tommy, who had met her at Rawal Pindi on the dreadful return journey,
had watched over her and cared for her comfort with the utmost
tenderness; but Tommy, like Peter, was somehow outside her confidence.
He was just a blundering male with the best intentions. She could not
have opened her heart to him had she tried. She was unspeakably glad to
have him with her, and later on she hoped to join him again at The Green
Bungalow down at Kurrumpore where they had dwelt together during the
weeks preceding her marriage. For Tommy was the only relative she had
in the world who cared for her. And she was very fond of Tommy, but she