Morning came, and with it Ferrers, but by no means in a lover-like frame of mind. His feelings were deeply injured, and he was full of grievances. After leaving the fort the night before, his comrades, taking their cue, as they considered, from Major Keeling, had all but cut him. It had been understood that Ferrers had made a full apology, and expressed his deep regret for the charges he had brought, and that Mr Crayne’s mediation had induced the Commandant to overlook the matter. But Major Keeling’s attitude at the dinner-party, his apparent inability to address a single word to Ferrers, had given the other officers a welcome opportunity of marking their sense of the younger man’s conduct. Ignorant as they were, and as Ferrers himself was, of the new cause of quarrel between the two, they came to the conclusion that his behaviour had been so unpardonable that only the strongest pressure from Mr Crayne had prevailed upon Major Keeling to overlook it even officially, and in their loyalty to their Chief they hailed the chance of copying his demeanour. The faithful Colin, who was much perplexed by Major Keeling’s uncharitable behaviour, and almost felt impelled to remonstrate with him, was the only exception, and managed, quite unintentionally, to fan the flame of Ferrers’ indignation by the fulness of his sympathy. Fortunately for Penelope, Ferrers had not time to recount his ill-treatment at length, and was only concerned to have the engagement fully recognised before he started to escort his uncle back to the river. “Now, Pen,” he said as he came in, without troubling himself to bid her good morning, “I must have this thing settled. My uncle wants to see you before he goes, so don’t try and play fast and loose with me any more.” Silently Penelope held out her hand, and he put the ring on her finger, only to find that it would not stay on. “Why, your hand must have got thinner since I had the ring made!” he cried, taking the fact as a personal injury. “And I wish you wouldn’t look so white and washed-out. It was quite unnecessary for you to sing so much last night--though of course it was just as well to try to cover Keeling’s bearish behaviour as much as possible--and naturally you’re tired after it. This place doesn’t suit you, I’m certain.” “I will wind some silk round the ring to keep it on,” said Penelope wearily; “and I shan’t sing any more, George.”