There was no answer, and she moved slowly to the window, supporting herself by the furniture. He was already mounted, and was giving his final directions to Ismail Bakhsh. The sight gave Georgia fresh strength, and stepping out on the verandah, she ran round the corner of the house. There was one place where he always turned and looked back as he rode out. He could not pass it unheeded even now, that spot, close to the gate of the compound, where she had so often waited for his return. As she stood grasping the verandah rail with both hands, the consciousness that for the first time in their married life he was leaving her in anger swept over her like a flood. “Oh, it will kill me!” she moaned, seizing one of the pillars to support herself, but almost immediately another thought flashed into her mind. “No, he is not angry--my dear old Dick! he is only grieved. He durst not be kind to me, lest I should persuade him any more, and he should have to give way. God keep you, my darling!” In the rush of happy tears that filled her eyes, the landscape was blotted out, and when she could see distinctly again, Dick had passed the gate. She could just distinguish the top of his helmet above the wall as he rode. He had gone by while she was not looking. Would it have been any comfort to her to know that he had looked back, and not seeing her, had ridden on faster? “I had to behave like a brute, or I should have given in--and she didn’t see it,” he said to himself remorsefully. “Of course she was right, bless her! She always is, but I couldn’t do anything else.” Her pale reproachful face haunted him, and had there been time he would have turned back, but he was obliged to hurry on. As he entered the town, he came upon Dr Tighe. “Doctor,” he said, laying a hand on the little man’s shoulder, “look after my wife while I’m away. She’s awfully cut up at my going like this.” [image: images/img_148.jpg caption: “LOOK AFTER MY WIFE WHILE I’M AWAY”] “All right!” said the doctor cheerfully; “and don’t you be frightened about her. Mrs North is a sensible woman, and knows better than to go and make herself ill with fretting.” “The Memsahib parted from the sahib without kissing him!” said one of the servants wonderingly to the rest. “What foolish talk is this?” asked Mabel’s bearer scornfully. “My last Memsahib never kissed the Sahib unless he had gained her favour by a gift of jewels.” The tone implied that the subject might be dismissed as beneath contempt, but the man’s actions did not altogether tally with it, for after loftily waving aside the assurance of the first speaker that this Sahib and Memsahib were not as others, he retired precipitately to his own quarters. Here a lanky youth, who was slumbering peacefully in the midst of a miscellaneous collection of goods, some of them Mabel’s, and others the bearer’s own, was suddenly roused by a kick.