"You see," explained Mrs. Greaves, "at first Captain Coventry was only rather amused at the way many of her little scruples fizzled out, and treated her like a child--after all, in some ways she isn't much more--until she began to do things that most of us deprecate, though we know they are probably harmless enough. When she took up with this horrible man he got angry, and they had rows. You know, I dare say, how intolerant he is; he always thinks the worst of women. I have never really liked him, and I'm afraid, if it were not for Rafella's sake, I should feel rather pleased, in a way, that his selection had not turned out quite the paragon of propriety he expected." "Can't you do anything? Can't you speak to her? I don't feel I know her sufficiently well to interfere." "I did try, but it was hopeless. She seemed to think she was the only person with any principles in the station. She said I had an evil mind, that we all had evil minds, and she stuck to it that she was doing nothing wrong; and, literally speaking, I am sure she isn't; she's only being foolish. She declared that as long as her conscience was clear she did not see why she should give up her friendship with Mr. Kennard." "I cannot abide that man! What on earth do some women see in him--or some men either, for that matter? It makes me so angry to hear them alluding to 'dear old Kennard.' No doubt he is clever--all barristers are; but I consider that no woman can be seen about with him and keep her reputation. I don't wonder Captain Coventry looks like a bear with a sore head. I hope he will soon put his foot down and stop the flirtation altogether." "Yes, if he only does it the right way," said Mrs. Greaves doubtfully; and as the music ceased she observed, with apprehension, that Mr. Kennard and Mrs. Coventry were making for a screened-in, dimly lit veranda, and that Captain Coventry was following the couple with slow, determined steps. "Oh!" she exclaimed involuntarily, below her breath, "I hope there isn't going to be a row!" "My dear," the Commissioner's wife assured her, "Mr. Kennard will take care there is no row--in public, at any rate. That would not suit him at all." "But Rafella is so silly, and Captain Coventry is so hard and vindictive. What will be the end of it?" "If anyone goes to the wall, it will without question be the woman," said the other grimly; "that is what always happens in these deplorable cases." Captain Coventry came upon his wife and her partner seated in an alcove. The pink glow from a paper lantern fell on the woman's fair head and delicate neck. She looked the picture of purity and innocence. The pair might have sat as models for Faust and Marguerite. Rafella glanced up quickly as her husband approached, walking slowly, evenly, along the veranda between the rows of sitting-out couples. She avoided his eyes as he came to a halt in front of her. Apparently Mr. Kennard did not see him.