“All right,” Monck said with finality, “so long as you don’t adopt her.”

Stella saw that he did not mean to allow Tessa a very large share of her attention during his leave.  She did not dispute the point, knowing that he could be as adamant when he had formed a resolution.

But she did not feel happy about the child.  There was to her something tragic about Tessa, as if the evil fate that had overtaken the father brooded like a dark cloud over her also.  Her mind was not at rest concerning her.

In the morning, however, Tessa arrived upon the scene, impudent and cheerful, and she felt reassured.  Her next anxiety became to keep her from annoying Monck upon whom naturally Tessa’s main attention was centered.  Tessa, however, was in an unusually tiresome mood.  She refused to be contented with the society of the ever-patient Peter, repudiated the bare idea of lesson books, and set herself with fiendish ingenuity to torment the new-comer into exasperation.

Stella could have wept over her intractability.  She had never before found her difficult to manage.  But Netta’s perversity and Netta’s devilry were uppermost in her that day, and when at last Monck curtly ordered her not to worry herself but to leave the child alone, she gave up her efforts in despair.  Tessa was riding for a fall.

It came eventually, after two hours’ provocation on her part and stern patience on Monck’s.  Stella, at work in the drawing-room, heard a sudden sharp exclamation from the verandah where Monck was seated before a table littered with Hindu literature, and looked up to see Tessa, with a monkey-like grin of mischief, smoking the cigarette which she had just snatched from between Monck’s lips.  She was dancing on one leg just out of reach, ready to take instant flight should the occasion require.

Stella was on the point of starting up to intervene, but Monck stopped her with a word.  He was quieter than she had ever seen him, and that fact of itself warned her that he was angry at last.

“Come here!” he said to Tessa.

Tessa removed the cigarette to poke her tongue out at him, and continued her war-dance just out of reach.  It was Netta to the life.

Monck glanced at the watch on his wrist.  “I give you one minute,” he said, and returned to his work.”

“Why don’t you chase me?” gibed Tessa.

He said nothing further, but to Stella his silence was ominous.  She watched him with anxious eyes.

Tessa continued to smoke and dance, posturing like a nautch-girl in front of the wholly unresponsive and unappreciative Monck.

The minute passed, Stella counting the seconds with a throbbing heart.  Monck did not raise his eyes or stir, but there was to her something dreadful in his utter stillness.  She marvelled at Tessa’s temerity.

Tessa continued to dance and jeer till suddenly, finding that she was making no headway, a demon of temper entered into her.  She turned in a fury, sprang from the verandah to the compound, snatched up a handful of small stones and flung them full at the impassive Monck.