"I thought, on the contrary, I should like to go out for a walk," says Joyce indifferently. "I confess my head is aching horribly. And that woman only made me worse."
"What a woman! I wonder she told so many lies. I wonder if——"
"If Mr. Dysart is going to India," supplies Joyce calmly. "Very likely. Why not. Most men in the army go to India."
"True," say Mrs. Monkton with a sigh. Then in a low tone: "I shall be sorry for him."
"Why? If he goes"—coldly—"it is by his own desire. I see nothing to be sorry about."
"Oh, I do," says Barbara. And then, "Well, go out, dearest. The air will do you good."
CHAPTER L.
"'Tis with our judgment as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own."