“Oh, go on! Swear at me, call me names--anything you like! I am positively yearning for a thorough good slanging--might make me feel a little better.” “Then I should recommend you to apply to Miss Keeling. I don’t fancy you’ll want to repeat the experience.” “Stratford, tell me what I am to do. I can’t think what possessed me just now. Of course, it stands to reason that we couldn’t allow her to do what she wanted. If she tried her experiments, and the Chief died, she would probably let herself in for an inquiry when we got back to Khemistan. Her name would be bandied about all over the place, and every wretched native penny-a-liner in India would be cooking up articles to reflect on medical women.” “And, by way of improving matters, you gave her a taste of the sort of thing beforehand. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to you that Miss Keeling would probably care comparatively little for having her name bandied about in the papers if she was convinced that her friends--and I suppose you would call yourself one--believed in her.” Dick stared. “But that’s all rot, you know!” he said. “If a woman won’t look after herself in those ways, one must do it for her. To think of her becoming the subject of bazaar _gup_!--why, you know, one couldn’t allow it. No, I’m not a bit sorry that I took her in hand and quenched her aspirations; but I am perfectly sick when I think of the way I did it. If she hadn’t taken it for granted that she was in the right all the time, I shouldn’t have got so mad; but it makes a man look such a cub to--to lose his temper when he’s arguing with a lady. As she said, I have done myself more harm with her to-day than months would undo. How can I put it right?” “I haven’t a notion,” responded Stratford, cheerfully. “Any one would have thought from your manner that you were bidding successfully for a final rupture. Of course, the only possible thing to do is to apologise. As a gentleman, you can’t avoid that, but I doubt whether it will do you much good. If you will excuse my saying it, North, I think you have tried this Revolt-of-Man business once too often.” “Rub it in!” said Dick, mournfully. “The harder the better.” “Oh, get out!” cried Stratford. “This office isn’t a confessional. Eat your humble pie as soon as you get the chance, and be jolly thankful if your penitence is accepted. That’s all I have to say. Now clear out. Why, I have more hope of young Anstruther than of you. The way that cub has been licked into shape is wonderful. Three months ago he would have been at your throat for half the things you said to-day. Slope!”