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the trip, Stella found herself hoping that she would get away before the news reached him. And as the time crept by without a word from him, she began to think she would succeed. But the next morning just as she was finishing breakfast—Miss Jellings being asleep—she heard a car purring up the driveway and a moment later Muhammad Ali announced gravely that Fendish Sahib wished to speak to her.
    “Very well; ask him to come in.” She wondered if the Indian, with his imperturbable expression, was conscious of her agitation. Probably he knew the ins and outs of the whole affair, was well aware that the sahib was annoyed with the memsahib —and why!
    But when Roger, hardly waiting for permission, strode into the room, she felt that the word “annoyed” was a poor description of his emotions. He was white with anger, and his eyes, which so short a while ago had rested on her with such passion, such tenderness, fairly blazed in his face.
    “Stella, there ’ s a ridiculous story going about—that you ’ re off to Bhindi this afternoon—by yourself!” His voice was unnaturally quiet; it would have been far less frightening, Stella felt, if he had raised it and shouted at her.
    But scared as she felt she resolved to hold her ground. She had made up her mind to break with Roger and here, plainly, was a heaven-sent opportunity.
    “It ’ s perfectly true,” she said steadily. She had jumped up when he came in but now sat down again, for her legs were trembling so violently it seemed impossible that they should hold her up. And then, before he could speak, she went on coolly, “Miss Jellings has asked me, as her paid employee, to go to Bhindi for a special purpose. Some very old and interesting ceremonies are taking place there this week, and she wants me to make notes on them.”
    “Does she absolutely insist on your going?” Roger rapped out the question.
    Stella hesitated, a pulse throbbing in her throat. To lie was foreign to her, and she could not forget that Jelly had told her explicitly that she was under no obligation to make the trip.
    “That ’ s answer enough for me,” he exclaimed . “Look here, Stella, you ’ ve got to tell her that you ’ ve changed your mind. It isn ’ t safe for you to go, and I won ’ t have it.”
    “And what right have you to order me around?” The peremptory note in his voice stung her to genuine rebellion.
    “The right of any man out here to see that one of his fellow countrywomen doesn ’ t get herself into a horrible mess. And there ’ s more to it than that.” He began to pace up and down the long room. “I could tell you stories of happenings at Bhindi that would make your hair stand on end; and I can assure you that if you came to any harm, it wouldn ’ t be you alone who would suffer. It would mean a punitive expedition. Dozens of lives, English and Indian thrown away, maybe, because of your wicked folly.”
    “I think you are exaggerating the danger.” Her tone was cold. “Armand Verle has been living in Bhindi for the past eighteen months, and if it wasn ’ t safe for a woman to stay there he ’ d be the first to know.”
    “Know? He doesn ’ t know anything—that nincompoop! Just because Chawand Rao has picked up a few Western ideas, Verle is ready to trust an ignorant English girl to his protection. I could kick the young fool from here to Bhindi, with the greatest of pleasure. As for you, Stella—considering that you were put into a blue funk by half a dozen beggars—in a modern town like Ghasirabad— ”
    “Well , I ’ m not in a blue funk now!” His contempt and anger were arousing in her an indignation that matched his own. She had expected him to appeal to her on the grounds of his affection for her and had steeled herself to treat him with quiet and kindly determination, making him believe that his feeling for her awoke no echo in her own heart. Instead he was trying to deal with her as though she were an utterly irresponsible little