The old lamp-shade was gracefully draped with yards of soft red silk—his master's cummerbund; the effect was so splendid and stimulating that he brought forth a certain treasured red and gold dress sash, and twisted it round the lamp with a quantity of beautiful forest leaves. This was the table decoration, and it looked extremely pretty and elegant. A blue military cape covered the deficiencies of a table, a plaid railway rug draped the shabby cane lounge, Gascoigne's two most cherished silk ties looped back the short window curtains, and when the deft-handed Abdul had placed lighted candles in every available spot and considered his work critically, he felt a thrill of honest satisfaction—the warm glow of an artist who beholds his ideal realised! The result was a transformation, and a success. When dinner was ready, he went and knocked on the visitor's door; it opened promptly, and the young lady appeared; such a dazzling apparition that Abdul fell back three paces. Angel had dressed her hair elaborately—she abjured a fringe—it was parted in the middle, and turned back in great masses, and gathered up in a knot low on her neck, with one or two rebellious little curls peeping over her forehead. She wore a dark trailing skirt, and a white silk and lace blouse, with close-fitting lace sleeves. Nor were the little decorative touches which add so much to a toilette omitted; she wore turquoise ornaments, a picturesque silver belt, and a band of black velvet enhanced the whiteness of her throat. All three items gave Angel an impression of "full dress," and Gascoigne, as he surveyed this dainty vision, mentally did homage. "I am rather smart—compared to what I was an hour ago," she said, addressing her host, "and considering that I only brought one small box with me—I left my luggage at the Junction, tons of trunks—oh, I am so fond of my frocks!" An hereditary passion, reflected her guardian. (As Angel talked she was furtively scrutinising Philip, who had exchanged his wet riding kit for the irreproachable white shirt, black tie, and dinner coat of the period.) "You are dazzling, I admit," he exclaimed, with a smile. "I feel as if I could only look at you through smoked glass." The girl laughed as she seated herself and glanced round. "What a transformation scene—how pretty the table is! Why, we might be dining _tête-à-tête_ at Prince's, and going on to a theatre. But I remember how clever native servants are—how they make a grand show out of nothing." Here Philip recognised with a gasp his wardrobe, so to speak, decorating the table—yes, and the room. "Especially our troupe," she continued; "Colonel Wilkinson saw to that." "Have you any news of him?" "Oh, yes," carefully helping herself to salt; her hands and wrists were exquisite. "He married again years ago, a woman with no end of money. She must have escaped from some lunatic asylum; don't let us talk of him. Let us eat, drink, and be merry."