very violent temper, and this may have given rise to the rumour.  I assure you, dearest, he is quite formidable, notwithstanding his size.  But there, if I tell you any more you will think I am prejudiced against him, whereas we are really the greatest friends—­the greatest possible friends.  I only thought it kind to warn you not to expect too much.  It is a mistake so many young girls make, and I want you to be as happy as you can, poor child.”

Muriel was laughing helplessly when he stopped.  The mimicry of voice and action was so perfect, so free from exaggeration, so sublimely spontaneous.

Nick did not laugh with her.  Behind his mask of banter he was watching, watching closely.  He had clad himself in jester’s garb to feel for the truth.  Perhaps she realised something of this as she recovered herself, for again that glance, half-questioning, half-frightened, flashed up at him as she made reply.

“No, Nick.  She never said that, indeed.  I wouldn’t have cared if she had.  It was only—­only—­”

“I know,” he broke in abruptly.  “If it wasn’t that, there is only one thing left that it could have been.  I don’t want you to tell me.  It’s as plain as daylight.  Let me tell you instead.  It’s all for the sake of your poor little personal pride.  I know—­yes, I know.  They’ve been throwing mud at you, and it’s stuck.  You’d sooner die than marry me, wouldn’t you?  But what will you do if I refuse to set you free?”

She turned suddenly crimson.  “You—­you wouldn’t, Nick!  You couldn’t!  You haven’t—­the right.”

“Haven’t I?” said Nick, with an odd smile.  “I thought I had.”

He looked down at her, and a queer little flame leaped up like an evil spirit in his eyes, flickered an instant, and was gone.  “I thought I had,” he said again, in a different tone.  “But we won’t quarrel about that.  Tell me what you want to do.”

Her answer came with a vehemence that perhaps he had hardly expected.  “Oh, I want to get away—­right away.  I want to go home.  I—­I hate this place.”

“And every one in it?” suggested Nick.

“Almost.”  Muriel spoke recklessly, even defiantly.  She was fighting for her freedom, and the battle was infinitely harder than she had anticipated.

He nodded.  “The sole exception being Mrs. Musgrave.  Do you know Mrs. Musgrave is going home?  You would like to go with her.”

Muriel looked at him with sudden hope.  “Alone with her?” she said.

“Oh, I’m not going,” declared Nick.  “I’m going to Khatmandu for my honeymoon.”

The hope died out of Muriel’s eyes.  “Don’t—­jeer at me, Nick,” she said, in a choked voice.  “I can’t bear it.”

“Jeer!” said Nick.  “I!” He reached down suddenly and took her hand.  The light sparkled on the ring he had given her, and he moved it slowly to and fro watching it.

“I am going to ask you to take it back,” she said.

He did not raise his eyes.  “And I am going to refuse,” he answered promptly.  “I don’t say you must wear it, but you are to keep it—­not as a bond, merely in remembrance of a promise which you will make to me.”