Now and then one of the girls wandered alone about the thirsty, sunburnt garden, accompanied by her own reflections. Pussy's mind was entirely occupied by Alonzo--when would she meet him? What would he think of her new yellow hat? and Verona, too, had musings sacred to her own heart. Her thoughts frequently turned to Salwey, as she paced the narrow "kunker" paths. She had not seen him for a long time! He never came up to Manora now! No doubt, he had outgrown his foolish fancy. After all, was it not precisely what she desired? Yet, even as Verona assured herself that all was for the best, she was conscious of an inward pang, and of a half-stifled sigh. She was aware of something blighting in the atmosphere--an enervating, creeping influence, which made her feel languid, callous and numb. Was this merely a temporary lassitude--the effect of the pitiless hot weather? or--horrible thought!--was it the native element developing in her veins, stealing into her heart and claiming her for its own at last? Occasionally Verona joined her father and Mr. Lepell as they sat and smoked together on the verandah, but on these occasions Pussy yawned and went to bed, for she found their conversation much too dull. Their theme was of the shop--of mango wood fuel, of rab and goor, and contracts and transport, and new machinery. But Verona, who had not her sister's easy faculty for sleep, remained languidly interested, and still more interested when her father asked his guest in a casual tone: "By the way, what has become of Salwey? I've not seen him about lately?" "Oh, he is out in the district; the hot weather is his busy time," was the reply. "Why?" enquired the girl; "I thought during the hot weather everyone remained at home in a state of torpor." "Not every one, especially a police officer," rejoined Mr. Lepell. "The hot weather is the idle time in this circle. When the crops are cut, and tillage awaits the rains, people have no occupation; they sit round the village 'Chabootra' and smoke and talk and quarrel; they brood over old feuds, they argue over wrestling matches and cock fights and land, and they kill one another with lathies or reaping hooks. I can assure you they keep Salwey and his men pretty well on the run. We have four murderers lying in Rajahpore jail at this moment. I say, young lady, you are looking pulled down. Why don't you accept my wife's pressing invitation, and join her in the hills?" "If Verona were to see the hills she would never return here," declared her father with a melancholy smile. "It is very kind of Mrs. Lepell to ask me, but the rains may come any day, Nani says, and it is not worth while to move." "There is no sign of the south-west monsoon yet," argued Mr. Lepell, "with all due deference to Mrs. Lopez. By the way, I often notice your mother driving to the city at the hottest time of the day. She must be a veritable salamander!"