“Geoffrey,” retorted the girl without turning her head, “I’m coming to box your ears directly. Go on, Mark,” she proceeded encouragingly; “if I could only reach round your waist I’d dance gentleman, and then you would soon get into it.” Mark accordingly went on according to his lights, and the result was a perfect roar of laughter, in which Sir Reginald joined most heartily, and so betrayed his whereabouts. He and his friends advanced into the room, and he presented them to the girl in black. “His wife!” They had barely recovered from their astonishment before she had left the room to see about preparations for them, and to order an impromptu supper, which was speedily organised in a grand old dining-room. Thither all proceeded, and a merrier party seldom sat down at Monkswood. As lively sallies and witty remarks were rapidly bandied about, and topic after topic was started, discussed, and dismissed, Captains Vaughan and Campell’s eyes frequently met. “Could this be Fairfax’s home, this lovely girl his wife, and these charmingly amusing well-bred people his relations? Then why did he stay in India? Where was the skeleton in the cupboard?” He was telling a story he had heard in town of an Irish wedding, where, by some blunder, the best man drove off with the bride by mistake. Declaring that to stop was unlucky, nothing would induce the coachman to pull up or turn back. Meanwhile the wretched bridegroom was pursuing them afoot, and running the gauntlet of a score of ragamuffins, who pelted him with stones and mud. “_You_ took precious good care that such a mistake did not occur, Regy!” said Geoffrey with a broad grin. “I had not much chance of driving off with you, Alice, had I? You remember how I wanted to come with you in the carriage from church, and how he nearly slammed my fingers in the door of the brougham, eh?” Why did Lady Fairfax become scarlet, and Fairfax assume an air of rapt consideration of the pattern of the tablecloth? Why did they so seldom address each other--what was the meaning of the coolness between them? Captain Vaughan made up his mind to watch them narrowly. But Captain Campell was far too much taken up with the topic nearest his heart to give the subject more than passing attention, and said: “Lady Fairfax, are you coming to the races to-morrow? Capital races at Sundown.” “N-o--I think not,” looking across at her husband interrogatively. “Oh!” responding to her glance, “_he_ is going right enough. He is to ride my horse, don’t you know--Tornado. I can’t get a jockey, and if I could now I would not change for the best professional in England.” “Do you mean that my husband is going to ride?” she asked with a quaver of consternation in her voice. “Yes; it is awfully good of him, is it not?” “Awfully good of him,” she repeated mechanically, her face as white as the cloth. “Reginald, you are not really going to ride Tornado?” said Geoffrey incredulously. “If you are, I hope you have made your will.”