Marian was a little surprised that Edward, usually so impassive, should so unmistakably snub the colonel at first sight; and yet she felt there was something very offensive in the man’s familiar manner, that made the retort perfectly justifiable, and even necessary. They lingered a little while, talking very ordinary tropical small-talk; and then the colonel, with an ugly smile, took up his hat, and declared, with many unnecessary asseverations, that he must really be off this very minute. Mrs Daubeny would so much regret having lost the precious opportunity. The Honourable Colonial Secretary rose at the same moment and added that he must be going too. Mrs Fitzmaurice would never forgive herself for that distressing local malady which had so unfortunately deprived her of the privilege and pleasure.—Good-morning, good-morning. But as both gentlemen jumped into the dogcart outside, Edward could hear the Colonial Secretary, through the open door, saying to the colonel in a highly amused voice: ‘By George, he gave you as much as he got every bit, I swear, Daubeny.’ To which the colonel responded with a short laugh: ‘Yes, my dear fellow; and didn’t you see, by Jove, he twigged it?’ At this they both laughed together immoderately, and drove off at once laughing, very much pleased with one another. Before Marian and her husband had time to exchange their surprise and wonder at such odd behaviour on the part of two apparently well-bred men, another buggy drove up to the door, from which a third gentleman promptly descended. His card showed him to be the wealthy proprietor of a large and flourishing neighbouring sugar-estate. ‘Called round,’ he said to Edward, with a slight bow towards Marian, ‘just to pay my respects to our new judge, whom I’m glad to welcome to the district of Westmoreland. A son of Mr Hawthorn of Agualta is sure to be popular with most of his neighbours.—Ah—hem—my wife, I’m sorry to say, Mrs Hawthorn, is at present suffering from—extreme exhaustion, due to the heat. She hopes you’ll excuse her not calling upon you. Otherwise, I’m sure, she’d have been most delighted, most delighted.—Dear me, what an exquisite prospect you have from your veranda!’ The neighbouring planter stopped for perhaps ten minutes in the midst of languishing conversation, and then vanished exactly as his two predecessors had done before him. Marian turned to her husband in blank dismay. ‘O Edward, Edward,’ she cried, unable to conceal her chagrin and humiliation, ‘what on earth can be the meaning of it?’ ‘My darling,’ he answered, taking her hand in his tenderly, ‘I haven’t the very faintest conception.’