"But the tournament? Captain Olliver's mad about winning the Cup this year." "I know that. So am I. I shall manage about a third pony, no fear. Time enough to think of that later. I must go and make out those advertisements." He set his teeth upon the word and turned to leave her, but her voice arrested him half-way to the door. "Theo!" "Well?" "Are you _sure_ there's nothing else that can be done? It--it isn't fair for you to lose the pony you love best, just because of a few dressmakers' bills." At that his pent-up bitterness slipped from leash. "Upon my soul, Evelyn, you're right. But there's no other way out of the difficulty, so let's have no more words about it: they don't make things easier to bear." CHAPTER XIV. I SIMPLY INSIST. "The fountains of my hidden life, Are, through thy friendship, fair." --EMERSON. Not many days later Desmond's advertisements appeared simultaneously in the only two newspapers of Upper India; and he set his face like a flint in anticipation of the universal remonstrance in store for him, when the desperate step he had taken became known to the regiment. He was captain of the finest polo team on the frontier; the one great tournament of the year--open to every Punjab regiment, horse and foot--would begin in less than a fortnight; and he, who had never parted with a polo pony in his life, was advertising the pick of his stable for sale. A proceeding so unprecedented, so perplexing to all who knew him, could not, in the nature of things, be passed over in silence. Desmond knew--none better--that victory or defeat may hang on the turn of a hair; that, skilled player though he was, the introduction of a borrowed pony, almost at the last moment, into a team trained for months to play in perfect accord was unwise, to say the least of it; knew also that he would be called upon to justify his own unwisdom at so critical a juncture, when all hearts were set on winning the coveted Punjab Cup. And justification was out of the question,--there lay the sting. Loyalty to Evelyn sealed his lips; and even the loss of his best-loved pony was less hard to bear than the possibility of being misjudged by his brother officers, whose faith in him had come to be an integral part of his life. In his present cooler frame of mind he saw that his action had been over-hasty; but with men of vehement temperament, to think is to feel, to feel is to act,--reflection comes last, if it ever comes at all. The first heat of vexation, the discovery of his wife's untrustworthiness and the sacrifice it entailed, had blinded him to all minor considerations.