CHAPTER XIII.
THE INVIDIOUS BAR Violet Oliver drove back to her camp in the company of her friends and they remarked upon her silence.
"You are tired, Violet ?" her hostess asked of her.
"A little, perhaps," Violet admitted, and, urging fatigue as her excuse, she escaped to her tent.

There she took counsel of her looking-glass.
"I couldn't possibly have foreseen that he would be here," she pleaded to her reflection.

"He was to have stayed in Chiltistan.

I asked him and he told me that he meant to stay.

If he had stayed there, he would never have known that I was in India," and she added and repeated, "It's really not my fault." In a word she was distressed and sincerely distressed.