He reflected upon what had passed since he had been in this place a month before. He had gone up to Natal, and in company of Harwood he had had a brief hunting expedition. He had followed the spoor of the gemsbok over veldt and through kloof, sleeping in the house of the hospitable boers when chance offered; but all the time he had been possessed of one supreme thought--one supreme hope that made his life seem a joyous thing--he had looked forward to this day--the day when he would have returned, when he would again be able to look into the face that moved like a phantom before him wherever he went. And he had returned--for this--this looking, not into her face, but into the street below him, while he thought if it would not be better for him to step out beyond the balcony--out into the blank that would follow his casting of himself down. He came to the conclusion that it would not be better to step beyond the balcony. A thought seemed to strike him as he stood out there. He returned to his chamber and threw himself on his bed, but he did not remain passive for long; once more he stepped into the air, and now he had need to wipe his forehead with his handkerchief. It was an hour afterwards that he undressed himself; but the bugle at the barracks had sounded a good many times before he fell asleep. Mr. Harwood, too, had an hour of reflection when he went to his room; but his thoughts were hardly of the excitable type of Markham's; they had, however, a definite result, which caused him to seek out Mr. Despard in the morning. Mr. Despard had just finished a light and salutary breakfast consisting of a glass of French brandy in a bottle of soda-water, and he was smoking another sample of that box of cigars on the balcony. “Good-morning to you, mister,” he said, nodding as Harwood came, as if by chance, beside him. “Ah, how do you do?” said Harwood. “Enjoying your morning smoke, I see. Well, I hope you are nothing the worse for your plunge yesterday.” “No, sir, nothing; I only hope that Missy out there will be as sound. I don't think they insisted on her drinking enough afterwards.” “Ah, perhaps not. Your friend Markham has not come down yet, they tell me.” “He was never given to running ties with the sun,” said Mr. Despard. “He told me you were a particular friend of his in Australia?” continued Mr. Harwood. “Yes, men very soon get to be friends out there; but Oswin and myself were closer than brothers in every row and every lark.” “Of which you had, no doubt, a good many? “A good few, yes; a few that wouldn't do to be printed specially as prizes for young ladies' boarding-schools--not but what the young ladies would read them if they got the chance.” “Few fellows would care to write their autobiographies and go into the details of their life,” said Harwood. “I suppose you got into trouble now and again?” “Trouble? Well, yes, when the money ran short, and there was no balance at the bank; that's real trouble, let me tell you.”