"Not a bit," Mrs. Crayfield assured him. "I never can sleep in the daytime, but Robert must have a rest. I tell him he works far too hard."
"Young bully, aren't you?" was Colonel Crayfield's playful retort, laying his hand on his wife's shoulder. "Take my advice, Flint, and when you marry don't choose a wife from the schoolroom."
"Judging by your example, sir," chaffed Philip, "one might do worse."
"Well, all things considered, I suppose I've been lucky. Good night. I shall expect to lick you to-morrow at tennis after you've exhausted yourself and my wife with your intellectual exertions."
"Not if I can help it," said Philip, diplomatically defiant.
CHAPTER X
When Mrs. Antonio pronounced Rassih to be "a very hot place," her words at the time had conveyed little to Stella of what to expect. The heat grew fiercer than she could have believed possible; the blazing sun, the scorching wind, the nights that seemed equally long and hot as the days, without variation of temperature save for the worse. There was no escape, no deliverance, and the rains tarried. Despite her youth and her health, she flagged, lost her appetite, lived chiefly on tea and iced mango-fool, with all the short-sightedness of the young in matters of nourishment. Robert, on the contrary, appeared to thrive. He ate well, slept soundly, rode and played tennis as usual. His very vigour was exhausting to his wife.