"Of course I do. I suppose you were very angry with him?" "I was--very angry. I had reason to be. He fell foul of me one night at the Club. It doesn't matter how he did it. He wasn't responsible in any case. But I had to act to keep him out of hot water. I took him back to my quarters. Dacre was away that night and I had him to myself. I kept my temper with him at first--till he showed fight and tried to kick me. Then I let him have it. I gave him a licking--such a licking as he never got at school. It sobered him quite effectually, poor little beggar." An odd note of tenderness crept through the grimness of Monck's speech. "But I didn't stop then. He had to have his lesson and he had it. When I had done with him, there was no kick left in him. He was as limp as a wet rag. But he was quite sober. And to the best of my belief he has never been anything else from that day to this. Of course it was all highly irregular, but it saved a worse row in the end." Monck's faint smile appeared. "He realized that. In fact he was game enough to thank me for it in the morning, and apologized like a gentleman for giving so much trouble." "Oh, I'm glad he did that!" Stella said, with shining eyes. "And that was the beginning of your friendship?" "Well, I had always liked him," Monck admitted. "But he didn't like me for a long time after. That thrashing stuck in his mind. It was a pretty stiff one certainly. He was always very polite to me, but he avoided me like the plague. I think he was ashamed. I left him alone till one day he got ill, and then I went round to see if I could do anything. He was pretty bad, and I stayed with him. We got friendly afterwards." "After you had saved his life," Stella said. Monck laughed. "That sort of thing doesn't count in India. If it comes to that, you saved mine. No, we came to an understanding, and we've managed to hit it ever since." Stella got to her feet. "Were you very brutal to him, Everard?" He reached a brown hand to her as she stood. "Of course I was. He deserved it too. If a man makes a beast of himself he need never look for mercy from me." She looked at him dubiously. "And if a woman makes you angry--" she said. He got to his feet and put his arm about her shoulders. "But I don't treat women like that," he said, "not even--my wife. I have quite another sort of treatment for her. It's curious that you should credit me with such a vindictive temperament. I don't know what I have done to deserve it." She leaned her head against him. "My darling, forgive me! It is just my horrid, suspicious nature." He pressed her to him. "You certainly don't know me very well yet," he said. They went back to the bungalow in the late afternoon, walking hand in hand as children, supremely content. The blue jay laughed at the gate as they entered, and Monck looked up, "Jeer away, you son of a satyr!" he said. "I was going to shoot you, but I've changed my mind. We're all friends in this compartment."