"Don't call me Ladybird!" she commanded, with unusual decision. "It belongs to Theo." Honor noted her rising colour with a smile of approval. "I'm sorry, dear," she said gently. "I quite understand. But--have you heard lately?" Evelyn's face cleared as readily as a child's. "Oh, yes; I forgot to tell you. I had quite a long letter this morning. Perhaps you would like to read it." And drawing an envelope from her pocket she tossed it into Honor's lap. The girl glanced down at it quickly; but allowed it to lie there untouched. She knew that Desmond wrote good letters, and she would have dearly liked to read this one. But a certain manly strain in her forbade her to trespass on the privacy of a letter written to his wife. "Thank you," she said; "I think I won't read it, though. I don't suppose Theo would care about his letters being passed on to me. I only want to know if things are going on all right." "Oh, yes; in the usual sort of way. They've had trouble with those wretched Waziris. Two sentries murdered last week; and some horses stolen. Oh! and Mrs Olliver has had a bad touch of fever; and there's cholera in the city, but they don't think it'll spread. What a gruesome place it is! And what a mercy we're not there now. By the way," she added, working her parasol into a crack between two boards, "I met the Kresneys as I was coming home." "The Kresneys! Here?" Honor sat suddenly upright, all trace of weariness gone from her face. "Yes. They're up for six weeks, and they seemed so pleased to see me that--I asked them in to dinner to-night." "Evelyn!" "Well--why not?" A spark of defiance glinted through the dark curves of her lashes. "You know Theo would hate it." "I daresay. But he isn't here; so it can't matter to him. And he need not know anything about it." "My dear! That would be worse than all!" Evelyn frowned. "Really, Honor, for a clever person, you're rather stupid. It would be simply idiotic to tell him what is sure to annoy him, when the thing's done and he can't prevent it." The girl leaned back with an impatient sigh. "If you feel so sure it will annoy him, why on earth do you do it? He is so good to you in every possible way." A great longing came upon her to disclose all that he had been ready to relinquish five weeks ago. "_I_ know that without your telling me," Evelyn retorted sharply. "But I think I might do as I like just while I'm up here. And I mean to--whatever you say. The Kresneys came here, instead of going to Mussoorie, chiefly to see me. I can't ignore them; and I won't." "Well, for goodness' sake, don't ask them to the house again, that's all." Then, because she could scarcely trust herself to say more on the subject, and because she had no wish to risk a quarrel, she added quickly: "A parcel came while we were out. Perhaps you'd like to open it before dinner." Evelyn was on her feet at once--the Kresneys forgotten as though they were not.