"Your convictions, then?" he amended. "Or, if you like, your principles?" "My--my principles of--of all that--are--just about like--everyone else's, I suppose," she managed to answer, fragmentarily, "--being honest--and true--and faithful--unto death." "To the one that you _really_ love?" "Why--certainly--of course." The heat in her face increased, so significant had she felt his words with that low even tone of emphasis. He stared so long at the sea after that she began to suspect he had not even heard her reply. After a time she was tempted to play, just a trifle, with the fire. She added, "Why did you ask?" "Wanted to know." Once more he fell dumb, and again she waited, afraid he would, and more afraid he would not, continue the delicate topic. Once again, also, she was tempted. "And what," she inquired, "is your--notion?" He did not turn. "Of love or crocodiles?" "Of--of love--was what you asked me." "I believe I did," he responded. "Oh, about the same as yours!" Elaine had received but scanty satisfaction. After another long silence she ventured to say: "We might have to be here a year--or even longer." He turned to her directly. "Do you like it here, Elaine?" She would not reply, and therefore demanded, "Do you?" "I'm a savage," he admitted. "This sort of thing appeals to something in my blood." "I know," she answered, understandingly, "--building up an empire with your naked hands, unaided--conquering metals and elements--wresting the island's dominion from the brutes. Naturally you love it!" He reddened. "I can't make an apple dumpling and make it right! This island's dominion? Great Caesar's frying-pan--this is a regular picnic-ground, with everything on earth provided!" She smiled. "And things all made and ready, including tools and powder, not to mention a tiger-skin rug.... You refuse to admit you like it for itself?" "Like it or not," he answered, "we must get away--and home." "Home," she repeated, oddly. "Home.... I wonder if home will ever seem---- It certainly would be wonderful, a miracle, I think, to see a steamer really coming--and to go on board and have it take us back to--everything--somewhere home---- But we'd sometimes think of this--a little?" "Probably." To save his life, he could not banish thoughts of Fenton. "I'm sure we would," murmured Elaine. She gazed away, to the jungle's softened shadows. She wanted to cry out abruptly that she loved it to-night, with a love that could never die. She wanted the comfort of something, she hardly dared wonder what. After another long silence, she finally said, with eyes averted and excitement throbbing in her veins: "I know the name of this little place--do you?" "No," he said, wondering what she might have discovered. "What do you think it is called?" It seemed to Elaine her heart pounded out her reply. "The Isle of Shalimar."