If she ever thought of Nick in those days, it was as a phantom that
belonged to the nightmare that lay behind her. He had no part in her
present, and the future she could not bring herself to contemplate. No
one even mentioned his name to her till one day Lady Bassett entered
her room before starting for a garden-party at Vice-Regal Lodge, a
faint flush on her cheeks, and her blue eyes brighter than usual.
"I have just received a note from Captain Ratcliffe, dear Muriel,"
she said. "I have already mentioned to him that you are too unwell to
think of receiving any one at present, but he announces his intention
of paying you a visit notwithstanding. Perhaps you would like to write
him a note yourself, and corroborate what I have said."
"Captain Ratcliffe!" Muriel echoed blankly, as though the name
conveyed nothing to her; and then with a great start as the blood
rushed to her white cheeks, "Oh, you mean Nick. I--I had almost
forgotten his other name. Does he want to see me? Is he in Simla
still?"
She turned her hot face away with a touch of petulance from the
peculiar look with which Lady Bassett was regarding her. What did she
mean by looking at her so, she wondered irritably?
There followed a pause, and Lady Bassett began to fasten her
many-buttoned gloves.
"Of course, dear," she said gently, at length, "there is not the
smallest necessity for you to see him.
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