It is the eternally old, eternally new tragedy of Anglo-Indian marriage; none the less poignant because it is repeated _ad infinitum_. Love him as she may, it costs more for a wife, and still more for a mother, to stand loyally by her husband in India than the sheltered women of England can conceive. For to read of such contingencies in print, is by no means the same thing as having one's heart of flesh pierced by the sword of division. "Has Theo heard all this?" Paul hazarded gently. "He went off in such good spirits." She dried her eyes, and looked up, "I couldn't spoil it all by telling him. But I thought it might seem less of a nightmare, if I could tell some one . . . and . . ." "And I happened to come handy?" he suggested with a rather pathetic smile. "Oh, Paul, how horrid! It wasn't that," she contradicted him hotly. "It was because you are . . you, my boy's godfather, and my very dear friend. Do you suppose I would have shown my mother-foolishness to any other man of my acquaintance?" "No. I don't suppose it," he answered, looking steadily down into the anxious beauty of her face. "Forgive my much less pardonable foolishness, and let me help you, if that's possible. Are you really thinking of going?" "N . . no. I don't believe I am. Only . . for one mad moment, I felt as if _nothing_ could hold me back. But children are such elastic creatures; and if I arrived to find him quite frisky and well, think how ashamed I should feel at having deserted Theo, and put him to so much expense for nothing. But I do want to wire at once; though I hardly like sending Theo's orderly . . ." "Let me write it for you, and send my man," he volunteered, catching gratefully at something definite to be done; and taking up a form he prepared to write at her dictation. "Reply prepaid, please; and addressed to Frank. I shall go straight over there, and stay till I get the answer, I could never keep it up with Theo all day. You saw how badly I did it at breakfast!--What's that? Some one come?" Sounds of arrival were followed by an unmistakable Irish voice in the hall; and Honor hurriedly dabbed her eyes. "Dear Frank, how clever of her! She can drive me over." A minute later she was in the room; an angular workmanlike figure, in sun helmet, and the unvarying coat and skirt. It was her one idea of a dress,--drill in summer, tweed in winter. "An' be all that's sensible, what more should an ugly woman want?" had been her challenge to a misguided friend, who had suggested higher aspirations. "'Tis no manner o' use to dress up a collection of limbs and features without symmetry; an' it saves no end of mental wear and tear, to say nothing of rupees, that's badly wanted for polo ponies." She entered talking; and shook hands talking still.