“Mrs. Huntly, may I come in to-morrow?” Mrs. Huntly saw in a flash it had been no use. “Oh, yes!” she said. “What a lot of moths you have in this climate of yours. Good-night!” The gorgeous moon, the thin low whisper of the tropic night, the rustling, murmuring life, which rose from the earth to the low sky above, seemed something of a new birth to Jack as free from the fetters of an old love he paused on the brink of a new, and because it was new imagined there would be no fetters. CHAPTER XXI “She crossed his path with her hunting noose, and over him drew her net.” GLADYS was the incarnation of sprightliness; her shimmering green dress made her look like some beautiful heartless naiad of the woods. When dinner was over she sang softly to Jim, letting her eyes rest on him with a light caressing smile. Her own world had turned to paradise. She was playing with sunbeams on a golden earth. It was impossible for her to be anything but charming. Mary was very tired. She sat and talked with her husband about the boy at Eton; for a while at least she washed her hands of Gladys. Finally the music stopped. Gladys’ hands sunk into her lap, and Jim looking at her in an adoring simplicity set about for words which were not too common to present to his goddess. “I say” (the invocation seemed a little modern) “that’s an awfully ripping dress you’ve got on to-night.” “Do _you_ like it, Jim?” It was impossible for her to help the emphasis. It had been said of her that if she were left alone in a desert she would flirt with a camel. Jim would have sold his soul for a compliment, but could only repeat:— “Awfully!” “Are you fond of being a soldier, Jim?” she asked. She was wondering why Jack Hurstly did not come. “I think it’s the grandest profession in the world!” he said proudly. “People don’t do us a bit of justice except when there’s a row on, and then they praise us for the wrong things. They don’t understand that a man must be a decent sort of chap to win the respect of his men; and there are fine chances, you know, that a fellow gets on the frontier to show what he is made of. To hush up a disturbance or keep a district quiet, are pretty good pieces of work. I hope you don’t think we’re all of us brutes or blackguards, Miss Gladys?” “No, Jim—oh, no!” said Gladys softly. “I think you’re the finest men in the world, the most chivalrous to women, the strongest and the gentlest—truest friend and noblest foe!” Jim thought it was too beautiful for words, also that it was original; but it was not exactly what he meant, and it put an end to the discussion. “How does Captain Hurstly get on with his men?” she asked. It was evident by her tone that she was not much interested in Captain Hurstly. “Oh, well enough,” said Jim doubtfully. “Only you see he had rather a bad time with a girl at home, and that rather put him off his work, I think. He doesn’t seem as interested as he used to be.”