Mrs. Waldershare was charmed with what she termed "a Himalayan Paradise"; her own chief friends were comfortably established at the Casino Hotel, or the Club, and she made a number of new acquaintances. The constant whirl of picnics, tiffins, dinners, dances, incidental to a gay hill station, the opportunity of exhibiting her toilettes, of living without expense, and of enjoying an occasional "game"—all this comprised a phase of existence supremely to Lola's taste. She possessed her own roulette board, and both board and owner were in flattering request. The board accompanied Mrs. Waldershare to luncheon parties, and to teas and dinners at "the Wigwam," and elsewhere. The Wigwam was a pretty little house, occupied by a smart married couple, much given to play of every description; their gay suppers were notorious, and their guests might have been discovered guiltily creeping in to their respective homes, with the dawn. Angel had not paid the usual round of calls, or embarked on the flood-tide of entertainments. She felt no inclination to dance, and suffered from constant neuralgia, and depression. One or two of her friends had sought her, but she declined their invitations; and when a lady resides in an out-of-the-way locality, in a sequestered bungalow, and is disinclined to entertain, or to be entertained, people in the full swing of the season have no leisure to cultivate such a recluse—and leave her severely alone. Mrs. Gascoigne was to be seen at church (at St. John's, in the Wilderness) on Sunday; on week days, rambling far along the unfrequented hill-tracks, merely accompanied by two dogs. To Angel's intimates, Mrs. Waldershare professed a devoted attachment to the dear, sweet girl, a keen anxiety respecting her health, and declared that she was "just a little bit run down," all this being accompanied by effusive encomiums. To her own circle she proclaimed that her house-mate was "peculiar." This, with a significance that led strangers to suppose that Mrs. Gascoigne was eccentric to the verge of imbecility. Lola's manner to Angel was perfect. A mixture of the tender elder sister, and the sincerely attached friend; but she and her hostess did not see much of one another, except at breakfast. Soon after this meal, Mrs. Waldershare's gaily-costumed jampannies (they wore black and yellow livery, and yellow turbans) carried their charming burden away for the whole day, she merely returning home in order to dress, or occasionally to receive the General and Sir Capel. No apologies were necessary, for Angel appreciated solitude, and they each went their own way; for that was understood in an unwritten bond. But when the monsoon broke in the middle of June, the rain descended in steady gray sheets, and roared and battered on the zinc roof of Rockstone, there were no more gay jaunts or excursions down into Chotah-Bilat. The six hill-men shed their wasp-like costumes, and huddled in their brown blankets,