Then the talk stopped with an almost audible jar. Still no Mrs. Jim. “That reminds me, I owe you fifty rupees for the condensed-milk. I thought perhaps you’d be coming here when you were transferred to the Khanda district, and I could pay you then; but you didn’t.” “I passed within five miles of the camp, but it was in the middle of a march, you see, and the carts were breaking down every few minutes, and I couldn’t get ’em over the ground till ten o’clock that night. I wanted to come awfully. You knew I did, didn’t you?” “I—believe—I—did,” said William, facing him with level eyes. She was no longer white. “Did you understand?” “Why you didn’t ride in? Of course I did.” “Why?” “Because you couldn’t, of course. I knew that.” “Did you care?” “If you had come in—but I knew you wouldn’t—but if you _had_, I should have cared a great deal. You know I should.” “Thank God I didn’t! Oh, but I wanted to! I couldn’t trust myself to ride in front of the carts, because I kept edging ’em over here, don’t you know?” “I knew you wouldn’t,” said William, contentedly. “Here’s your fifty.” Scott bent forward and kissed the hand that held the greasy notes. Its fellow patted him awkwardly but very tenderly on the head. “And _you_ knew, too, didn’t you?” said William, in a new voice. “No, on my honour, I didn’t. I hadn’t the—the cheek to expect anything of the kind, except... I say, were you out riding anywhere the day I passed by to Khanda?” William nodded, and smiled after the manner of an angel surprised in a good deed. “Then it was just a speck I saw of your habit in the—” “Palm-grove on the Southern cart-road. I saw your helmet when you came up from the mullah by the temple—just enough to be sure that you were all right. D’ you care?” This time Scott did not kiss her hand, for they were in the dusk of the dining-tent, and, because William’s knees were trembling under her, she had to sit down in the nearest chair, where she wept long and happily, her head on her arms; and when Scott imagined that it would be well to comfort her, she needing nothing of the kind, she ran to her own tent; and Scott went out into the world, and smiled upon it largely and idiotically. But when Faiz Ullah brought him a drink, he found it necessary to support one hand with the other, or the good whisky and soda would have been spilled abroad. There are fevers and fevers. But it was worse—much worse—the strained, eye-shirking talk at dinner till the servants had withdrawn, and worst of all when Mrs. Jim, who had been on the edge of weeping from the soup down, kissed Scott and William, and they drank one whole bottle of champagne, hot, because there was no ice, and Scott and William sat outside the tent in the starlight till Mrs. Jim drove them in for fear of more fever. Apropos of these things and some others William said: “Being engaged is abominable, because, you see, one has no official position. We must be thankful we’ve lots of things to do.”