The prospect filled him with despair; life would become intolerable.  A vivid imagination painted the picture of Cossie, helpless and plaintive, appealing for information and advice, coming to him to patch up disputes between her and her employer, to take her on the lakes, to the gymkhana, or the theatre on her days out.  And what would Sophy Leigh think when she saw him accompanied by Mrs. So-and-So’s European nurse?  Putting her absurd partiality for him on one side, Cossie in her normal condition was a good-natured, amiable creature, and, of course, when she arrived in Burma he, as her only relative in the country, would be bound to look after her and show her attention; probably all the world would believe that they were engaged!  Unchivalrous as was the idea, he had a hateful conviction that it would not be Cossie’s fault if they did not arrive at that conclusion.

With this sword of Damocles hanging over his head, and the object of his apprehension being daily brought nearer and yet nearer, Shafto was and looked abjectly miserable.  FitzGerald rallied him boisterously on his glum appearance, and on being “off his feed.”

“What on earth ails you?”

To his well-intended queries he invariably received the one brief unsatisfactory answer:  “Nothing.”

Roscoe, too, endeavoured to puzzle out the mystery.  It was not the lack of money—­Shafto was prompt in his payments; his door was never haunted by bill-collectors, nor had he got into hot water in his office; both his horses were sound.  What could it be?

In due course the Blankshire was signalled and arrived, and the usual mob of people swarmed aboard to meet their friends.  Among these, carrying a heavy heart, was Shafto; after all, he realised that he must do the right thing and go to receive his cousin; but, amazing to relate, there was no Miss Larcher among the passengers!  On inquiry he was presented to an excited lady, who had brought her all the way from Tilbury, filling the situation of lady nurse.  Miss Larcher had not completed the voyage, but had landed at Colombo!  On hearing of his relationship to her late employe, Mrs. Jones, a hot-tempered matron, fell figuratively tooth and nail upon defenceless Shafto.  In a series of breathless sentences she assured him that “his cousin, Miss Larcher, was no better than an adventuress, and had behaved in the most dishonest and scandalous manner.”

After a moment—­to recover her breath—­she went on in gasps: 

“I took her on the recommendation of a mutual acquaintance, and at our interview she appeared quite all right and most anxious to please; but once on board ship, with her passage paid, I soon discovered that she was not anxious to please me, but any and every unmarried man she could come across!  Such a shameless and outrageous flirt I never saw.  As to her duties, she was absolutely useless; I don’t believe she had ever washed or dressed