Evelyn's order had been given on the impulse of a moment. The idea of confronting her husband again in less than ten minutes had overpowered her suddenly and completely. She had only one thought--to gain-time; to screw up her courage for the ordeal; and to realise a little what she intended to say. It is only the strong who dare to trust that the right words will be given them. Her interview with Kresney had unnerved her; and a lurking doubt quenched the spark of hope at her heart. Would Theo accept her tardy obedience without asking unanswerable questions. Or would he simply put her aside, with his inexorable quietness, that was far more terrible than any spoken word? In all the pain and bewilderment of their short interview, nothing had so smitten her as his recoil--first and last--from the touch of her hands. The bare possibility that he might treat her so again made return seem out of the question. And her unhappiness struck deeper than the fear of the moment. For the first time she realised her own instability of feeling and purpose; and with the realisation came a new paralysing fear of the future--of herself. For the first time it dawned upon her that she was unworthy of the love and faith that had been given her in such generous measure;--which was proof conclusive, though she did not guess it, that Honor Meredith had not laboured in vain. To know oneself unworthy is to have achieved the first step upward. A year ago she would have been incapable of such knowledge; and now that it had come to her she was afraid. Sudden cessation of movement roused her; and the mate, turning his head, spoke with respectful urgency. "Protector of the Poor, it is not well to go farther. Behold the swift going of the sun. Before your servants can reach the bungalow there will be no more light, and it is against orders----The Sahib will make angry talk." Evelyn did not follow the whole of this appeal; but the man's anxiety was evident. She caught the words "Sahib" and "angry" with an inward shudder; she had endured enough of the Sahib's anger for one day, and her own common-sense told her that she had behaved foolishly. Even outlying bungalows were no longer in sight. A boundary pillar gleamed ghostlike a few hundred yards ahead. The last rim of the sun had already slipped behind the hills. Their harsh peaks black against a sky of faint amber, had a threatening look; and darkness was racing up out of the east. The mate was right. It would be upon them almost before they could reach the bungalow; and to be out after sunset was strictly against the rules of the station. Sudden terror clutched her; a nameless dread of the country--of the natives--which she had never been able to shake off; a paralysing sense that she was alone in their midst--alone on the verge of night. Fear unsteadied her voice as she answered the man. "Turn, turn at once, and go quickly,--run; the Sahib will give _jacksheesh_--run!"