to her; and, since talking opens the heart, perhaps there might be
some comfort to be found in her company. She was the only other
woman in the Station.

In Kashima there are no regular calling-hours. Every one can drop
in upon every one else at pleasure. Mrs. Boulte put on a big terai
hat, and walked across to the Vansuythens' house to borrow last
week's Queen. The two compounds touched, and instead of going
up the drive, she crossed through the gap in the cactus-hedge,
entering the house from the back. As she passed through the
dining-room, she heard, behind the purdah that cloaked the
drawing-room door, her husband's voice, saying

'But on my Honour! On my Soul and Honour, I tell you she doesn't
care for me. She told me so last night. I would have told you then
if Vansuythen hadn't been with you. If it is for her sake that you'll
have nothing to say to me, you can make your mind easy. It's
Kurrell '

'What?' said Mrs. Vansuythen, with a hysterical little laugh.
'Kurrell! Oh, it can't be! You two must have made some horrible
mistake. Perhaps you you lost your temper, or misunderstood, or
something. Things can't be as wrong as you say.'

Mrs. Vansuythen had shifted her defence to avoid the man's
pleading, and was desperately trying to keep him to a side-issue.

'There must be some mistake,' she insisted, 'and it can be all put
right again.'