“Yes.”  With a characteristic touch of grimness he answered her.  “I noticed when you first began to colour your cheeks for my benefit.  I knew it was only for mine, or of course I should have been furious.”

“Oh, Everard!” She hid her face against him again with a little shamed laugh.

He went on without mercy.  “I am not an easy person to deceive, you know.  You really might have saved yourself the trouble.  I hoped you would give in sooner.  That too would have saved trouble.”

“But I haven’t given in,” she said.

His hand closed upon hers.  “You would kill yourself first if I would let you,” he said.  “But—­do you think I am going to do that?”

“It would kill me to leave you,” she said.

“And what if it kills you to stay?” He spoke with sudden force.  “No, listen a minute!  I have something to tell you.  I have been worried about you—­as I said—­for some time.  To-day I was working in the orderly-room, and Ralston chanced to come in.  He asked me how you were.  I said, ’I am afraid the climate is against her.  What do you think of her?’ He replied, ’I’ll tell you what I think of you, if you like.  I think you’re a damned fool.’  That opened my eyes.”  Monck ended on the old grim note.  “I thanked him for the information, and told him to come over here and see you on the earliest opportunity.  He has promised to come round in the morning.”

“Oh, but Everard!” Stella started up in swift protest.  “I don’t want him!  I won’t see him!”

He kept her hand in his.  “I am sorry,” he said.  “But I am going to insist on that.”

“You—­insist!” She looked at him curiously, a quivering smile about her lips.

His eyes met hers uncompromisingly.  “If necessary,” he said.

She made a movement to free herself, but he frustrated her, gently but with indisputable mastery.

“Stella,” he said, “things may be difficult.  I know they are.  But, my dear, don’t make them impossible!  Let us pull together in this as in everything else!”

She met his look steadily.  “You know what will happen, don’t you?” she said.  “He will order me to Bhulwana.”

Monck’s hand tightened upon hers.  “Better that,” he said, under his breath, “than to lose you altogether!”

“And if it kills me to leave you?” she said.  “What then?”

He made a gesture that was almost violent, but instantly restrained himself.  “I think you are braver than that,” he said.

Her lips quivered again piteously.  “I am not brave at all,” she said.  “I left all my courage—­all my faith—­in the mountains one terrible morning—­when God cursed me for marrying a man I did not love—­and took—­the man—–­ away.”

“My darling!” Monck said.  He drew her to him again, holding her passionately close, kissing the trembling lips till they clung to his in answer.  “Can’t you forget all that,” he said, “put it right away from you, think only of what lies before.”