for Theo Desmond was, in itself, no sin. It wa

[Gramolini Oberhausen]

Ntly over at the bungalow." And, saluting her again, he trotted
leisurely northward to the cavalry Lines. His thoughts as he went
hovered about the girl. The mere picture she left upon his brain was not
one to be lightly set aside by a man with an ardent eye for the
beautiful, and a spirit swift to discern those hidden elements which
gave to Honor Meredith's beauty its distinctive quality and charm. Some
men are born with a genius for looking on at life, a form of genius not
to be despised. They are of the type from which great naturalists, great
philosophers are made; men quick to perceive, slow to assert; men whose
large patience rests upon freedom from the fret of personal desire. Of
such was Paul Wyndham, and in his accepted role of onlooker he fell to
pondering upon the new element in his own immediate drama. If only
Desmond had chosen for his helpmate such a girl as Miss Meredith, how
different might have been the regiment's feelings in regard to the
unwelcome fact of his marriage. Yet Wyndham was aware of an instant
recoil from the idea, aware that he personally preferred matters as they
stood. With which conclusion he spurred his horse to a canter, as though
he could thus outrun the quickened current of thought and feeling which
this unlooked-for meeting had set stirring in his brain. * * * * *
Meantime Honor Meredith had fallen in with another member of 
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