The same post delivered a thick letter from Cossie, which her ungrateful and distracted relative tore up unread. Already, in his mind’s eye, Shafto could see Cossie permanently established in Rangoon, informing everyone that she was his cousin, bombarding him with _chits_, worrying him for visits, treats and attentions. Heaven be praised! neither of his horses carried a lady, it was as much as he could do to ride them himself. He could not possibly leave Rangoon and so effect his escape; he was nailed down to his work, not like his lucky chums, whose business duties occasionally carried them up the country. His job was confined to Rangoon itself, for eight hours a day. The prospect filled him with despair; life would become intolerable. A vivid imagination painted the picture of Cossie, helpless and plaintive, appealing for information and advice, coming to him to patch up disputes between her and her employer, to take her on the lakes, to the gymkhana, or the theatre on her days out. And what would Sophy Leigh think when she saw him accompanied by Mrs. So-and-So’s European nurse? Putting her absurd partiality for him on one side, Cossie in her normal condition was a good-natured, amiable creature, and, of course, when she arrived in Burma he, as her only relative in the country, would be bound to look after her and show her attention; probably all the world would believe that they were engaged! Unchivalrous as was the idea, he had a hateful conviction that it would not be Cossie’s fault if they did not arrive at that conclusion. With this sword of Damocles hanging over his head, and the object of his apprehension being daily brought nearer and yet nearer, Shafto was and looked abjectly miserable. FitzGerald rallied him boisterously on his glum appearance, and on being “off his feed.” “What on earth ails you?” To his well-intended queries he invariably received the one brief unsatisfactory answer: “Nothing.” Roscoe, too, endeavoured to puzzle out the mystery. It was not the lack of money—Shafto was prompt in his payments; _his_ door was never haunted by bill-collectors, nor had he got into hot water in his office; both his horses were sound. What could it be?