Meantime Frank Churchill, with doubt and distrust at his heart, engendered by having to leave Barbara in company with Captain Lyster, went away with Pringle to the lower croquet-ground, where they and others played a succession of games with varying success, in all of which Frank distinguished himself by ferocious swiping, and Mr. Pringle came to grief in an untimely manner. At length, when they were tired, Frank and Pringle walked away together--the former on the look-out for his wife, the latter listening with great deference to such scraps of his companion's conversation as he was treated with; for Mr. Pringle had a great reverence for "people who write books," and, in common with a great many, looked upon the production of a something printable as an occult art. "It always seems such a rum thing to me," said he ingenuously, "how you first think about it, and then how you put it down! You write leaders, Mr. Churchill, eh? Oh yes, we heard of you at our office, the Tin-Tax, you know! That article in the _Statesman_ about old Maddox and his K.C.B.'ship, they all declared it was you." As Churchill only said "Indeed!" in an absent manner, and was still looking about him, Pringle proceeded: "Oh, of course you won't let it out it was your work--we understand that! but it must be jolly to be able to give a fellow one for himself sometimes! a regular bad one, enough to make him drink! I should think that was better fun than novel-writing; though novel-writing must be easier, as you've only got to describe what you see. I think I could do that--this afternoon, for instance, and all the swells and queer people about. The worst of it is, you must touch it up with a bit of love, and I'm not much of a hand at that; but I suppose one could easily see plenty of it to study from. For instance, do you see those two at the end of this walk, under the tree? I suppose that's a spooning match, isn't it? How he is laying down the law! and she gives him her hand, and he bends over it--" "Damnation!" exclaimed Churchill. "Hollo!" said Pringle, "what's the matter?" "Nothing!" said Churchill; "I twisted my foot, that was all!" Barbara tried several times that evening to meet Frank; but he avoided her; and it was not until they were in the fly, that she had an opportunity of speaking to him. "Where on earth have you been, Frank, all day? I hunted and hunted for you, but never succeeded in finding you." He looked up at her: her eyes were sparkling, her cheek flushed; she was thoroughly happy. The escape from Mesopotamia and its dreariness, the return to scenes similar to those which she had been accustomed to, had worked immediate change. She looked so radiantly beautiful that Frank was half-tempted to spare her; but after a second's pause, he said, "I walked all over the grounds. I was in the shrubbery close by you when Captain Lyster kissed your hand."