"So far good," he muttered, "he at least is not taking advantage of my absence to enjoy himself with this wife of mine whom Mr. Worsley places on such a pedestal!" But after he had gazed out from his corner a little longer, he perceived a combination which aroused his anger. On one of the sofas placed about for tired guests not far from where Mark stood, sat Hester, and by her side, his own now declared enemy, the Collector of Puranapore. Mr. Worsley was smiling as he talked, and his conversation was evidently pleasing, judging from Hester's look of interest and animation. The topic was, in fact, reminiscences of her uncle, who had been Felix Worsley's particular friend at Oxford. Striding rapidly across the room, Rayner laid his hand on his wife's arm, saying sharply: "Come along, Mrs. Rayner, our carriage stops the way." Hardly allowing her time even to bow a good-night to her companion, and himself ignoring his presence, he hurried her away, keeping his hold on her arm till she reached the door of the cloak-room. "Alfred, why were you so rude?" asked Hester in dismay. "Do you know it was Mr. Worsley, whom you wanted so much to meet, that I was talking to?" "I knew it only too well, madam! Therefore it was I chivied you off as I did. Sorry I interrupted what seemed, judging from your appearance, a fascinating _tête-à-tête_, but a man must use his discretion where his own wife is concerned! Don't be in any hurry, I've got to summon the carriage yet," he called, as Hester, dumb with shame and vexation, was disappearing into the cloak-room. "I'll send and let you know when Mrs. Rayner's carriage stops the way!" Then he added to himself: "Meanwhile I want a little more champagne to steady my nerves after all this worry." CHAPTER XXIV. A few weeks had elapsed since Alfred Rayner had spurned the searchlight which might have shown him some of the plague spots of his own heart. They had proved very trying weeks in the house in Clive's Road. Hester was striving to be tactful and tender, but her husband's wayward outbursts of temper made things very hard for her, and even outsiders began to mark the change in her looks. "The Madras climate is already beginning to tell on Mrs. Rayner! Her bloom has been short-lived, but I expect she will soon be carried off to the hills and get her good looks restored at Ooty," were the remarks passed from lip to lip, but none divined the true cause of the young wife's weary mien.