"Yes," he said slowly, "one grows accustomed to it." Then, presently, he added, in another tone: "At any rate, my term in Madras is at an end. I return to Marut next week." She started. The start was almost a violent one, and her hands fell limply in her lap. "You are going back to Marut?" she said. "For ever?" He smiled, but his eyes avoided hers. "Not for ever, I hope. I am sick of pen-work, and want to get back to the front among my men. There is a company of sepoys to be stationed at Marut, and they have given me the command. It's a good post, though of course I would rather be at the frontier, where there's something doing. At any rate, I must get away from Madras as soon as possible." "Yes," she said absently, "no doubt it is best." She went on stitching as though nothing had happened, but her hands trembled, and once she threw back her head as though fighting down a strong emotion. But he had ceased to watch her. He was leaning a little forward, one elbow resting on his knee, his eyes fixed steadfastly in front of him. "Can I be the bearer of any messages?" he asked at last. "No, thank you. I write regularly. Or--yes, you might tell them that you left me well and happy. That will please them. Will you be so kind?" "Will it be kind to give a message which is not quite true?--I mean," he added hastily, "you do not seem strong." "Oh, I am strong enough. I do not think I shall ever be ill." Another long and painful silence intervened. There was no sound, save Lois' thread as it was drawn through the thick material. Nicholson drew out his watch. "You mustn't think me rude, Mrs. Travers," he said, with an abrupt return to his old formality, "but I have any amount of work to do before I leave, and among other things I wanted to see your husband on business. He told me the other day that he had some shares in the Marut Company going, and said if I would care for them--" Her work dropped from her hand to the floor. She stared at him with a face whiter than the linen she had been stitching. "But you are not going to buy them?" she asked sharply. Something in her tone forced him to meet her eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Why not? I'm a poor business man, and your husband always seems to come off well in his ventures. Without being in the least a speculator, I should be glad to make a little money." He smiled. "I have another craze on, you see--a gun this time--and it requires capital to complete. So I thought--" She leaned forward. One small hand lay clenched on the table between them, and there was a force and energy in her attitude which arrested his startled attention. "I think you are mistaken, Captain Nicholson," she said. "My husband has no shares to sell." "But yesterday he told me that he had!" "Yes, yesterday, no doubt. But he heard to-day from the Rajah. I think, if you do not mind waiting, he will tell you himself that what I say is true."