has nothing to do with a man. Saumarez was silent for good or bad,
and as business-likely attentive as he could be, having due regard
to his work and his polo. Beyond doubt both girls were fond of
him.

As the hot weather drew nearer, and Saumarez made no sign, women
said that you could see their trouble in the eyes of the girls--
that they were looking strained, anxious, and irritable. Men are
quite blind in these matters unless they have more of the woman
than the man in their composition, in which case it does not matter
what they say or think. I maintain it was the hot April days that
took the color out of the Copleigh girls' cheeks. They should have
been sent to the Hills early. No one--man or woman--feels an angel
when the hot weather is approaching. The younger sister grew more
cynical--not to say acid--in her ways; and the winningness of the
elder wore thin. There was more effort in it.

Now the Station wherein all these things happened was, though not a
little one, off the line of rail, and suffered through want of
attention. There were no gardens or bands or amusements worth
speaking of, and it was nearly a day's journey to come into Lahore
for a dance. People were grateful for small things to interest
them.

About the beginning of May, and just before the final exodus of
Hill-goers, when the weather was very hot and there were not more
than twenty people in the Station, Saumarez gave a moonlight
riding-picnic at an old tomb, six miles away, near the bed of the
river. It was a "Noah's Ark" picnic; and there was to be the usual
arrangement of quarter-mile intervals between each couple, on