succession, thanks to the industry of Mrs. Carmichael, who hurried from
one Chinese lantern to the other, breathless but determined. The task was
doubtless an ignominious one for an Anglo-Indian lady of position, but
Mrs. Carmichael, who acted as a sort of counterbalance to her husband's
extravagant hospitality, cared not at all. England, half-pay and all its
attendant horrors, loomed in the near future, and economy had to be
practised somehow.

Of the late group only Lois and John Stafford remained. They had not
spoken, but, as though obeying a mutual understanding, both remained
quietly waiting till they were alone.

"Shall we walk about a little?" he asked at last. "I missed our morning
ride so much. It has put my whole day out of joint, and I want something
to put it straight again. Do you mind, or would you rather dance? I see
they have begun."

"No," she said. "I would rather be quiet for a few minutes. Somehow I have
lost the taste for that sort of thing to-night."

"I also," he responded.

They walked silently side by side along the well-kept path, each immersed
in his own thoughts and soothed by the knowledge that their friendship had
reached a height where silence is permitted--becomes even the purest form
of expression. At the bottom of the compound they reached a large,
low-built building, evidently once a dwelling-place, overgrown with wild
plants and half in ruins, whose dim outlines stood out against the
darkening background of trees and sky. The door stood open, and must
indeed have stood open for many years, for the broken hinges were rusty