long chair and looked almost affectionately at him. They had been
friends since their Sandhurst days, and during the past twelve months of
his comrade's absence on furlough in Europe the adjutant had sorely
missed his cheery companionship. Nor was he the only one in their
regiment who had.

Frank Wargrave was almost universally liked by both men and women, and,
while unspoilt by popularity, thoroughly deserved it. He was about
twenty-six years of age, above medium height, with a lithe and graceful
figure which the riding costume that he was wearing well set off.
Fair-haired and blue-eyed, with good though irregular features, he was
pleasant-faced and attractive rather than handsome. The cheerful,
good-tempered manner that he displayed even at that trying early hour
was a true indication of a happy and light-hearted disposition that made
him as liked by his brother officers as by other men who did not know
him so well. In his regiment all the native ranks adored the young
sahib, who was always kind and considerate, though just, to them, and
looked more closely after their interests than he did his own. For, like
most young officers in the Indian Army, he was seldom out of debt; but
soldierly hospitality and a hand ever ready to help a friend in want
were the causes rather than deliberate extravagance on his own account.
Taking life easily and never worrying over his own troubles he was
always generous and sympathetic to others, and prompter to take up
cudgels on their behalf than on his own. His being a good sportsman and
a smart soldier added to his popularity among men; while all women were
partial to the pleasant, courteous subaltern whom they felt to have a
chivalrous regard and respect for them and who was as polite and
attentive to an old lady as he was to the prettiest girl.

While admiring and liking the other sex Wargrave had hitherto been too