She fled to Merryon in horror, and he and the _khitmutgar_ slew the
creature. But Puck's nerves were on edge from that day forward. She went
through agonies of cold fear whenever she was left alone, and she
feverishly encouraged the subalterns to visit her during her husband's
absence on duty.

He raised no objection till he one day returned unexpectedly to find her
dancing a hornpipe for the benefit of a small, admiring crowd to whom
she had been administering tea.

She sprang like a child to meet him at his entrance, declaring the
entertainment at an end; and the crowd soon melted away.

Then, somewhat grimly, Merryon took his wife to task.

She sat on the arm of his chair with her arms round his neck, swinging
one leg while she listened. She was very docile, punctuating his remarks
with soft kisses dropped inconsequently on the top of his head. When he
ended, she slipped cosily down upon his knee and promised to be good.

It was not a very serious promise, and it was plainly proffered in a
spirit of propitiation. Merryon pursued the matter no further, but he
was vaguely dissatisfied. He had a feeling that she regarded his
objections as the outcome of eccentric prudishness, or at the best an
unreasonable fit of jealousy. She smoothed him down as though he had
been a spoilt child, her own attitude supremely unabashed; and though he
could not be angry with her, an uneasy sense of doubt pressed upon him.
Utterly his own as he knew her to be, yet dimly, intangibly, he began to
wonder what her outlook on life could be, how she regarded the tie that
bound them. It was impossible to reason seriously with her. She floated