"I see. How kind! But you bring me news of my brother? Dearest Theodore!" she ejaculated, clasping her hands. Sybella could not help an occasional air of sentimentality. It was natural to her; or, if acquired, it had become second nature. "Yes—" "He is—I suppose we are to expect him by the date he named. How unfortunate that you had to come first!" No reply. "I am so looking forward to his arrival. More than words can express! Dear Theodore!" sighed Miss Devereux. "Ten long years since I saw him last! Will he be much changed?" The General muttered something incoherent under his moustache. Miss Devereux unclasped her hands, and clasped them anew. "If only dear Theodore could have resolved to come home a year or two earlier! I never could think why he would not. Keeping that poor little Cyril out all this time—it really has been reckless. Nearly ten years old! Enough to ruin the child's constitution." "Particularly healthy station," murmured General Villiers. "Yes, but the native surroundings—I have always heard that the evil was so great—" "It has been guarded against." The boy pressed closer to the General's knee, his tiny hand stealing into the veteran's brown fingers. "They would do all they could, of course. But since poor Olave's death, how could Theodore have time?—A busy civilian, you know. I am afraid it has been a mistake. And dear Evelyn all these years at school, never seeing her parents or brother! Ten years' separation! It cannot be right! Yes, she spent her holidays here—at first, always. She has had a great many invitations of late from schoolfellows, which she seemed to prefer. My dear aunt has been pained, but Evelyn asked her father's consent. I have not seen the dear girl now for eighteen months. Last summer, she went abroad with friends, and last Christmas she had German measles, so my dear aunt was afraid of the infection for me." This had no ludicrous sound for Sybella's ears. Though close upon forty, she was so used still to being cared for as if she were a maiden in her teens, so used to have her health counted a prime consideration, that the statement came as a matter of course. If the General had been less sad, he might have found it hard to restrain a smile. "It will be all right now, however—now that our dear Theodore is coming home, I shall be so glad to have his advice and help. My dear aunt has always seen to everything, and I am so inexperienced." "Could I help you?" asked the General. He had something to say which he did not know how to say. With the moral cowardice of many a physically brave man, he was willing to put off the evil moment. "Would you not mind?" Sybella hesitated, recollecting that here was another widower. But he had come to her; she would not have to go to him; and he was an old family friend.