"Oh, that would be delightful--just like old times," said Hester brightening. "I haven't ridden since I came here. Alfred doesn't like riding, though he is so devoted to driving. Even when he was at the Rectory after our engagement, which you know was very short, he wouldn't go out with Charlie and me. Charlie thought he was really timid, and told me not to urge him. He won't mind my riding--at least I don't think so," she added, a shadow crossing her face not unnoticed by her visitor. "But he'll be here presently, and we'll ask him. You'll stay to dinner and see him, won't you?" "With pleasure. I'm quite free this evening and we'll arrange this one ride anyhow. I've seen a perfect horse for you at Wallers'. I shall bring it round to-morrow morning. What do you say to going to St. Thomas's Mount? It's a place I've a fancy to explore. Have you been there?" "No, I've really seen very few places round about--beyond the range of the wide compounds. I think your touring must be delightful. But you haven't told me anything of Puranapore yet except about the Collector, and I didn't get much from Alfred even after he had visited you." Mark was silent. Rayner then had given his wife the impression that he had been at the English station while at Puranapore, and had, no doubt, concealed the fact that he was visiting Zynool. The discovery was disturbing, and he wondered if it would be wise to enlighten Hester there and then. He felt, however, that he could not bear to bring a deeper shadow to the sweet face, and proceeded instead to give some annals of the station-life. "Well, to begin with the ladies. There's Mrs. Samptor, wife of the Superintendent of the District Jail, a big giant of a man, and a capital fellow. She is a little country-bred person who had never been to England and has a perfect horror of Eurasians." Hester's eyes opened wider. She was about to exclaim: "Just like Alfred!" But that topic had cut too deep for her to touch it lightly. "You wonder perhaps how she tolerates me," said Mark with a smile, as if divining her thoughts. "Well, as it happens, we are very good friends. Her mental process regarding the matter is peculiar, I allow, but it seems to her convincing, as she is a lady who prides herself on knowing everything about everybody. She volunteers to prove from my hands, my nails, and from my toes, I expect, if she were allowed to inspect them, from every feature of my face in fact, that I do not belong to the race she detests." "And does the Collector like this little lady?"