indeed her feeling for Dermot so far savoured more of hero-worship than of love.  She looked with interest at his scanty possessions, his sword, the line of riding-boots against the wall, the belts and spurs hung on nails, the brass-buttoned greatcoat hanging behind the door.  In his sitting-room she read the names of the books on a roughly-made stand to try to judge of his taste in literature.  And with feminine curiosity she studied the photographs on the walls and tables and wondered who were the originals of the portraits of some beautiful women among them and what was their relation to Dermot.

While her brother, who picked up strength at once in the pure air, delighted in the military sights and sounds around him, the girl revelled in the loveliness of their surroundings, the beauty of the scenery, the splendour of the hills, and the glorious panorama of forest and plains spread before her eyes.  To Parker, who had awaited their arrival at Dermot’s gate and hurried forward to help down from Badshah’s back the first Englishwoman who had ever visited their solitary station, she took an instant liking, which increased when she found that he openly admired his commanding officer as much as she did secretly.

In the days that followed it seemed quite natural that the task of entertaining Noreen should fall to the senior officer’s lot, while the junior tactfully paired off with her brother and took him to shoot on the rifle range or join in games of hockey with the sepoys on the parade ground, which was the only level spot in the station.

Propinquity is the most frequent cause of love—­for one who falls headlong into that passion fifty drift into it.  In the isolation of that solitary spot on the face of the giant mountains, Kevin Dermot and Noreen Daleham drew nearer to each other in their few days together there than they ever would have done in as many months of London life.  As they climbed the hills or sat side by side on the Mess verandah and looked down on the leagues of forest and plain spread out like a map at their feet, they were apt to forget that they were not alone in the world.

The more Dermot saw of Noreen, the more he was attracted by her naturalness and her unconscious charm of manner.  He liked her bright and happy disposition, full of the joy of living.  On her side Noreen at first hardly recognised the quiet-mannered, courteous man that she had first known in the smart, keen, and intelligent soldier such as she found Dermot to be in his own surroundings.  Yet she was glad to have seen him in his little world and delighted to watch him with his Indian officers and sepoys, whose liking and respect for him were so evident.