She had not slept well after her fright; but she had a project in her mind, and she fully meant to carry it out.
She lay chafing till his horse's hoof-beats told her that he was leaving the house behind him; then she, too, rose and ordered her own horse.
Phil Turner, haggard and depressed after a night of considerable pain, was sitting up in bed with his arm in a sling, drinking tea, when a fellow-subaltern, who with two others shared the bungalow with him, entered, half-dressed and dishevelled, with the astounding news that Mrs.Tudor was waiting in the compound to know how he was.
Phil shot upright in amazement.
"Good Heavens, man! She herself ?" he ejaculated.
His brother officer nodded, grinning.
"What's to be done?
Send out word that you're still alive though not too chirpy, and would she like anything to drink on the veranda?
I can't go, you know; I'm not dressed." "Don't be an ass! Clear out and send me my bearer." Phil spoke with decision.

Since Mrs.Tudor had elected to do this extraordinary thing, it was not for him to refuse to follow her lead.

He was too far in her debt, even had he desired to do so.
His bearer, therefore, was dispatched with a courteous message, and when Phil entered the veranda a quarter of an hour later he found her awaiting him there.
"This is awfully kind of you," he said, as he grasped her outstretched hand.

"I was horribly put out about you! You are none the worse ?" "Not a mite," she assured him.

"And you?
Your arm ?" He made a face.
"Raleigh was with me half the night, watching for dangerous symptoms; but they didn't develop.