“I understand,” Duncombe said.

“And she was such an innocent,” Hone went on softly.  “Faith, what an innocent she was!  Till one day she saw what had happened to me, and it nearly broke her heart.  For she hadn’t meant any harm, bless her.  It was all a game with her, and she thought I was playing, too, till—­till she saw otherwise.  Well, it all came to an end at last, and to save her from grieving I pretended that I had known all along.  I pretended that I had trifled with her from start to finish.  She didn’t believe me at first, but I made her—­Heaven pity me!—­I made her.  And then she swore that she would never forgive me.  And she never has.”

Hone turned quietly away, and put the dumb-bells into a corner.  Duncombe remained motionless, watching him.

“But she will, old chap,” he said at last.  “She will.  Women do, you know—­when they understand.”

“Yes, I know,” said Hone.  “But she never can understand.  I tricked her too thoroughly for that.”  He faced round again, his grey eyes level and very steady.

“It’s just my fate, Teddy,” he said; “and I’ve got to put up with it.  However it may appear, the gods are not all-bountiful where I am concerned.  I may win everything in the world I turn my hand to, but I have lost for ever the only thing I really want!”

III

It was two days later that Mrs. Chester decided to give what she termed a farewell fete to all Nina Perceval’s old friends.  Nina had always been a great favourite with her, and she was determined that the function should be worthy of the occasion.

To ensure success, she summoned Hone to her assistance.  Hone always assisted everybody, and it was well known that he invariably succeeded in that to which he set his hand.  And Hone, with native ingenuity, at once suggested a water expedition by moonlight as far as the ruined Hindu temple on the edge of the jungle that came down to the river at that point.  There was a spice of adventure about this that at once caught Mrs. Chester’s fancy.  It was the very thing, she declared; a water-picnic was so delightfully informal.  They would cut for partners, and row up the river in couples.

To Nina Perceval the plan seemed slightly childish, but she veiled her feelings from her friend as she veiled them from all the world; for very soon it would be all over, sunk away in that grey, grey past into which she would never look again.  She even joined in conference with Mrs. Chester and Hone over the details of the expedition, and if now and then the Irishman’s eyes rested upon her as though they read that which she would fain have hidden, she never suffered herself to be disconcerted thereby.

When the party assembled on the eventful evening to settle the question of partners, Hone was, as usual, in the forefront.  The lots were drawn under his management, not by his own choice, but because Mrs. Chester insisted upon it.  He presided over two packs of cards that had been reduced to the number of guests.  The men drew from one pack, the women from the other; and thus everyone in the room was bound at length to pair.