The tone of formality hurt her. With a return of her old impulsiveness, she began searching for the matches. "You are not disturbing me," she said. "On the contrary, I--was expecting you. Archibald told me you were coming, but I forgot to light up. I was twilight-dreaming, if there is such a term." She laughed with a forced cheerfulness, and he made no answer. The little red-shaded lamp gave her some trouble, and when she looked up she saw that he was standing opposite her, the light falling on a broad scar across his forehead. "How the burn shows to-night!" she exclaimed involuntarily. "Will you never lose it?" "Never," he answered. "I do not want to. When I am depressed, I look at it, and remember that I have done one thing worth doing in my life." "I don't know," she returned. "You have done more useful things than that." "Not to my mind." "Well, but to mine. There, when I have pulled the curtains and put the lamp just at your elbow, you could almost imagine yourself back in England, couldn't you? Imagine the street outside as a bit of London. There could hardly be more noise. The idea may refresh you. You look so tired." He seated himself in the comfortable wicker chair by the table and looked about him with a faint smile of content. "Yes," he said, "it is homely, isn't it? The red light, and the pretty little room, and you sitting there working. It might be a corner of the old country--or of Marut. Your study was just like this, I remember." "Yes, I copied it. It made me feel less lonely. Only I flatter myself that it is tidier here than it used to be in the old days." He laughed, and the laughter sent the light shining in his eyes. "Rather! When I first joined I had the chemical craze on, do you remember? I thought I was going to discover some wonderful new gunpowder, and we used to experiment together in your room. The business came to an untimely end when I blew off part of the ceiling--" "And some of my eyebrows!" she interposed merrily. "Yes, of course. I don't know which disaster upset Mrs. Carmichael most, good soul. After that I forget what craze came about, but we always had a new one on the list, hadn't we?" She nodded, her head once more bent over her work. "None of them lasted," she said. "Crazes never do." There was a moment's silence. Their little burst of gay recollections was over, and the restraint had regained its old ascendancy over them. Unknown to her, Nicholson was watching his companion with keen, anxious eyes. "You look pale and tired," he said gently. "Madras is getting too much for you. When is Travers going to take you for a change?" "I don't know. Not just now. Besides, I am happier here. I like the noise and bustle." "You used not to. You were all for outdoor sports and beautiful scenery." "Yes, but now it is different. I could not stand the quiet. I must have noise to distract me--I mean, I have grown so accustomed to it."