A low double gate, a break in the high stone wall, often gave him glimpses of the two women in their morning rambles and, with a softened feeling, born of her own secret passion for Hawke, Justine Delande watched a fluttering handkerchief often answer Captain Hardwicke's morning salute.
"Tell me, Justine," said Nadine, the morning after Hugh Johnstone had stolen away, "Why does my father not ask Major Hardwicke to visit us?
He is to be promoted for his superb gallantry, he is so brave--so noble! He certainly has as many claims to honor as this--this Major Hawke--whom my father has made his confidant.

I don't know why, but I don't like that man!" "What do you know of Major Hardwicke, as you call him ?" cried Justine in wonder at Miss Nadine's growing interest.
"Ah!" the agitated girl cried with blushing cheeks, "Mrs.Willoughby told me how he dragged his wounded friend out of a storm of Afghan balls, and gave her back the child of her heart.

It was General Willoughby who got him his Victoria Cross.

And, she says that he is a hero, he is so gentle and manly--so gifted--a man destined to be a commanding general yet." The guilty Swiss woman dared not raise her eyes to watch the fleeting blushes on Nadine's cheeks.
"It is time, high time we leave India," she mused, and then, the thought of separation from Alan Hawke chilled her blood.

"Let us go in," she said.