Frank Wargrave was almost universally liked by both men and women, and, while unspoilt by popularity, thoroughly deserved it. He was about twenty-six years of age, above medium height, with a lithe and graceful figure which the riding costume that he was wearing well set off. Fair-haired and blue-eyed, with good though irregular features, he was pleasant-faced and attractive rather than handsome. The cheerful, good-tempered manner that he displayed even at that trying early hour was a true indication of a happy and light-hearted disposition that made him as liked by his brother officers as by other men who did not know him so well. In his regiment all the native ranks adored the young sahib, who was always kind and considerate, though just, to them, and looked more closely after their interests than he did his own. For, like most young officers in the Indian Army, he was seldom out of debt; but soldierly hospitality and a hand ever ready to help a friend in want were the causes rather than deliberate extravagance on his own account. Taking life easily and never worrying over his own troubles he was always generous and sympathetic to others, and prompter to take up cudgels on their behalf than on his own. His being a good sportsman and a smart soldier added to his popularity among men; while all women were partial to the pleasant, courteous subaltern whom they felt to have a chivalrous regard and respect for them and who was as polite and attentive to an old lady as he was to the prettiest girl. While admiring and liking the other sex Wargrave had hitherto been too absorbed in sport and his profession to have ever found time to lose his heart to any particular member of it, while his innate respect for, and high ideal of, womankind had preserved him from unworthy intrigues with those ready to meet him more than half-way. Even in the idleness of the year's furlough in England from which he had returned the previous day he had remained heart-whole; although several charming girls had been ready to share his lot and more than one pretty pirate had sought to make him her prize. But he had been blind to them all; for he was too free from conceit to believe that any woman would concern herself with him unasked. He had dined and danced with maid and young matron in London, ridden with them in the Row and Richmond Park, punted them down backwaters by Goring, Pangbourne and the Cleveden Woods, and flirted harmlessly with them in country houses after days with the Quorn and the Pytchley, and yet come back to India true to his one love, his regiment. As Raymond watched him the fear of the feminine dangers in England for his friend suddenly pricked; and he blurted out anxiously: "I say, old chap, you haven't got tangled up with any woman at home, have you? Not got engaged or any silly thing like that, I hope?" Wargrave laughed.