"It must have meant still more to Richard Farquharson," said Evelyn slowly. "He knew all along I was making him ready for some trial of strength; what it was he didn’t know. I’m not the man to speak of dreams until they are within an ace of realization. He scored off me on one point, I remember. I’d made arrangements for our landing; amongst other items I’d ordered suitable conveyances. They sent us white donkeys of the swift Taornian breed, for which they’re famous. Their tails and manes were very smart with henna, but they had neither reins nor stirrups. Our choice lay between them and camels. I chose a donkey, because it was less far to fall from." He paused. "Go on, please," said Evelyn. Calvert nodded. "Curious how such details stay with one. I remember the very words I used to Farquharson at that moment, the look on his face as he listened. I purposely gave my order as though I were telephoning for a restaurant table. I said, ’I mean to have this island. You must get it for me. I’ll give you a free hand, but everything must be fixed up before I leave for the next meeting of the Kimbala Mines in a week’s time.’ And Farquharson"—his eyes narrowed, and he smiled the slow smile of a man who looks back on a pleasant memory—"Farquharson turned very sharply; it was a savage place, you know, and he would have to deal with savages. So far he hadn’t come across them. He said——" Evelyn leant forward. "Yes?" Calvert laughed. "He said, ’Right, sir. Look out, or you’ll be off that donkey in another moment.’ And that was all we ever said about the matter till the thing was done." Dora Beadon swept across the room, a pair of youthful members of the Upper House in her train. "Evelyn, your behaviour at parties is simply execrable. You’ve kept this corner all the evening, and everybody wants it, it’s so comfy." Then in an undertone—"Now, do be grateful to me, there’s a dear. I felt I must in common charity relieve you of that dreadful old fogey. And, besides, you haven’t told me yet how you like my gown. Felice sat up all night giving the finishing touches, and was as cross as fourteen hundred sticks all day in consequence. Maids are so utterly unbearable." "It’s a lovely frock," said Evelyn, honestly admiring the beautiful material which no art could drape in graceful folds upon Miss Beadon’s short, fat body. "Let off Felice to-night, Dora dear. I’ll come and put you to bed if you’ll let me. You don’t know what a good maid I am."