"I'm glad I caught sight of you," continued Sir Capel in a confidential undertone, "and was able to give you this hint about Lola. She's awfully cut up. By Jove! women do say beastly things of one another. They have all got their knives in her just because she's so much better looking than themselves." By this time the party were descending the hill to the encampment, and had overtaken the other travellers, who appeared to imagine that their visit was not merely welcome, but to be accepted in the light of an immense condescension. Mr. Brady, who was acting host in the absence of his senior officer, was immediately enslaved by the charming widow and her magical eyes. With such eyes, the gift of speech was almost superfluous. "I wish I knew where to put you?" he said, helplessly, as soon as they had partaken of an excellent lunch. "Mrs. Waldershare, you are most welcome to my tent, and all my worldly goods." "Oh, I hate a tent," she answered, ungratefully; "it's always so dark, I can never see to do my hair. The general finds that there are two capital quarters side by side about a hundred yards lower down." "Yes," he added, "I took a look at them just now, not at all bad—temporary wooden huts, apparently new and clean. Mrs. Waldershare will have one, I'll occupy the other. Sir Capel prefers a tent. We don't expect spring beds and electric light on the borders of Thibet." "If we get the common necessaries, we consider ourselves lucky," said Angel; "supplies are so scarce, and there are hardly any tracks passable for ponies. Those two huts were erected by mistake before Philip came here, and are considered much too near the possible flood-mark to be safe. They have been condemned." The general laughed disagreeably, and said: "My dear lady, the water won't come within a hundred feet of them, even on the most imbecile computation, and I shall have my things moved down at once, and yours," turning to Mrs. Waldershare. Mr. Brady opened his mouth to remonstrate, but the general, armed with the decision acquired by years of authority, silenced him by a gesture. As General Bothwell herded a tribe of clamorous coolies in the direction of these two somewhat tempting asylums, Mr. Brady turned to Angel, and said: "It's no good my talking to the old boy; but when the Colonel comes back, he will soon 'haunk' him out of that. There was a lot of rain last night, and the water is within twelve feet of the top." "I think you had better share my hut," said Angel to her lady guest; "it will be a squeeze, but those below are considered dangerous—at least Philip says so." "Don't you think he is fidgety, and bothers too much about things," rejoined Lola, who in her secret heart had a profound contempt for a man she had hoodwinked, and rated his intellect at a far lower value than her own, since her French fables, and her tenacious memory of the dates of the English sovereigns had been, in schooldays, superior to his.