"If you won't let me lay a finger on you," he said in an altered tone, "I don't see how I can be any use. But if you will condescend to use me as a prop, I'll put you up on the mare, and walk beside you; then you can hold on to me if you feel shaky. We are not far off now, and the boy can take my pony on. Will that suit you?" She looked up gratefully through a mist of tears. "Thank you. It is nice of you to be so kind to me after--what I said." "No man in his senses could be anything but kind to _you_." And bending down he once more encircled her with his arm, raising her to her feet, and taking his time over the proceeding. For an instant, in mere weakness, she leaned her light weight upon him; and his sense of triumph was complete. "No hurry," he assured her gently. "You're very shaky still, you know." But she stiffened at the cautious tightening of his arm, and stumbled forward, so that he had some ado to repress his irritation. He lifted her to the saddle; and, seemingly oblivious that he had offered himself as a mere prop, took such full advantage of the permission to support her till they reached the bungalow, that she was vaguely troubled, though too dazed and shaken to attempt further remonstrance. "May I come in?" he asked, as he set her on the ground. "Yes, please come. Won't you stay to dinner?" "I should like to, awfully." "Very well then, do." She managed to walk into the drawing-room; but as he laid her on the sofa, her head fell limply backward, and she fainted. He stood watching her intently for a few seconds. Then he bent over her, low and lower, till his lips almost rested upon hers. But at this point something checked his despicable impulse--perhaps the purity of her face, or merely its unresisting stillness. Perhaps he chose to defer the pleasure till a more acceptable moment. He straightened himself with a jerk; and hastening into the hall, shouted for brandy and soda-water. Very soon a faint colour crept back into her cheeks. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "Drink some of this," he said. "It's very weak, and you need it." She took a few sips and set down the glass. "Better now?" he asked, and leaned over her again, his hand on the sofa back, his lips perilously close to her hair. At that critical moment, Wyndham's tall figure appeared in the doorway, closely followed by Honor Meredith. Kresney's back was towards him; and the tableau presented by the pair was equivocal, to say the least of it. For an instant Paul stood still in sheer stupefaction; then he turned to the girl, his grey eyes ablaze with indignation, and she had never liked him better than at that moment. As he stepped forward, Kresney started up with a stifled oath; and the two men confronted one another, in silent, undisguised hostility, while Honor hurried to Evelyn's side. "What is wrong with Mrs Desmond?" Paul asked coldly, concealing his natural anxiety for Theo's wife.