In this fashion ten days slipped uneventfully past. Then, on a certain afternoon, Kresney again met Evelyn by chance,--and begged her to come back with him to tea before going home. Her consent was a foregone conclusion; and as they neared Kresney's whitewashed gate-posts, Captain Olliver trotted past. He had already met Miss Kresney jogging out to tea on a long-tailed pony of uncertain age; and glancing casually back over his shoulder, he saw Mrs Desmond's jhampan entering the gateway. Whereat he swore vigorously under his breath, and urged his pony to a brisker pace. But of these facts Evelyn was blissfully unaware. Her uppermost thought was a happy consciousness of looking her best. From the forget-me-nots in her hat to the last frill of her India muslin gown all was blue--the fragile blue of the far horizon at dawn. And Kresney had an eye for such things. She started slightly on discovering that the drawing-room was empty. "Where's Miss Kresney?" she asked, stopping dead upon the threshold. "Why, what a fool I am!" the man exclaimed with a creditable air of frankness. "I clean forgot she had gone out to tea. But you're not going to desert me on that account! You wouldn't be so unkind!" Evelyn felt herself trapped. It would seem foolish and pointed to go; yet she had sense enough to know that it would be very unwise to stay. She compromised matters by saying sweetly that she would come in just for ten minutes, to have a cup of tea before going back in the sun. Kresney looked his gratification--looked it so eloquently that she lowered her eyes, and went forwards hurriedly, as if fearing that something more definite might follow the look. But the man, though inwardly exultant, was well on his guard. If he startled her this first time, he could not hope to repeat the experiment. He chose the most comfortable chair for her; insisted on an elaborate arrangement of cushions at her back; poured out her tea; and plied her assiduously with stale sponge-cake and mixed biscuits. Then drawing up his own chair very close, he settled himself to the congenial task of amusing and flattering her, with such success that her ten minutes had stretched to an hour before she even thought of rising to go. Captain Olliver, meanwhile, had ridden on to the blue bungalow, which chanced to be his destination; and had spent half an hour in desultory talk with Desmond, Wyndham, and the Colonel, who had fallen into a habit of dropping in almost daily. As he rose to take his leave, a glance at Wyndham brought the latter out into the hall with him. "What is it?" he asked. "Want to speak to me about something?" "Yes. Can we have a few words alone anywhere? It concerns Desmond, and I can't speak to him myself." Paul frowned. "Nothing serious, I hope. Come in here a minute." And he led the way into his own Spartan-looking room. "Now let me hear it," he said quietly.