Thus, at all events, he argued as he rode, until the riders vanished from before his eyes, and the ladies in their coloured frocks beneath the cool of the trees. The trees themselves dwindled to ragged mimosas, the brown sand at his feet spread out in a widening circumference and took the bright colour of honey; and upon the empty sand black stones began to heap themselves shapelessly like coal, and to flash in the sun like mirrors. He was deep in his anticipations of the Soudan, when he heard his name called out softly in a woman's voice, and, looking up, found himself close by the rails.
"How do you do, Mrs. Adair?" said he, and he stopped his horse. Mrs. Adair gave him her hand across the rails. She was Durrance's neighbour at Southpool, and by a year or two his elder—a tall woman, remarkable for the many shades of her thick brown hair and the peculiar pallor on her face. But at this moment the face had brightened, there was a hint of colour in the cheeks.
"I have news for you," said Durrance. "Two special items. One, Harry Feversham is to be married."
"To whom?" asked the lady, eagerly.
"You should know. It was in your house in Hill Street that Harry first met her; and I introduced him. He has been improving the acquaintance in Dublin."
But Mrs. Adair already understood; and it was plain that the news was welcome.
"Ethne Eustace!" she cried. "They will be married soon?"
"There is nothing to prevent it."
"I am glad," and the lady sighed as though with relief. "What is your second item?"
"As good as the first. I go out on General Graham's staff."