Nothing pleased her husband better than Hester's simple unconscious power of winning the golden opinions of his clients. It was indeed an asset he valued. His face was radiant with good-humour as he took leave of her to go to the High Court, arranging to return early and drive with her to a polo match on the Island, a spectacle which Hester's liking for horses made always welcome. As they were driving home that evening Mr. Rayner suddenly said to his wife: "Why, Hester, you have actually never asked for your old friend, Cheveril! Of course I saw him at Puranapore. I declare I'll be malicious enough, and in your presence too, to tell him of your heartless conduct next time we meet. That will take down the august civilian a bit!" he added, with an unpleasant smile which was lost on Hester. "But, Alfred, I never even knew you had been to Puranapore. Your chit merely said you were going away on pressing business and I somehow took it for granted you were going to where that poor boy came from--Palaveram, isn't it? So you were at Mark's station and saw him?" she said eagerly. "Do tell me all about your visit! Does he like the place? Has he got a nice house, and how does he get on with the Collector? You thought they would be at daggers drawn!" Hester's variety of questions gave her husband a relieving loophole. He would, if possible, make a selection and only reply to those that suited him. He quickly decided to ignore all mention of his visit to Zynool, and to endeavour to convey the impression that he had seen more of the Assistant-Collector than he actually had, if only she did not press him for details about the English quarter. He told her that he had, of course, given Cheveril a gracious invitation to spend Christmas at Clive's Road, but he had rejected it, preferring the Club. He felt some slight surprise on perceiving that his wife did not evince disappointment at this announcement. Indeed, though Hester would hardly have acknowledged it, and eager as she was to keep in touch with this friend of old days, she felt it was best that his visit to Clive's Road should not be repeated, that Alfred and he should not again come into close quarters. Her husband's nerves were so highly strung and his bitter prejudice against the community to which Mark made no secret of belonging, all made it desirable that there should be little contact between them. Then, too, those little jars during Mark's short stay had left a deep mark on Hester, and brought a flush of vexation to her face every time she recalled them. There was no doubt that Mark must have overheard Alfred's discourtesy to Mr. Morpeth, and also, she feared, his cruel words to herself. Yes, it would be best that he should come for a quiet evening only, and she would try to make it bright, and without any jar for her husband or her friend, she decided with sweet serenity, accepting the limitations of the lot to which, she was feeling every day