“What I mean is this: One has been sensible ever since we landed of the existence in these parts of somebody with very considerable power. Looking back, one may perhaps see that influence, or power, working even before we landed. And I myself am sensible of a deliberate, forming hand, not only in events, but in our material environment, even in the landscape. More than that—we are living at the generosity of someone who can afford to be very slow and ceremonious in discovering himself. I feel myself that underneath this prodigality of forethought for our comfort there lies an immense sureness, based on power. I feel that it is a kindly power, but it may be otherwise. In any case I am not afraid. I am profoundly interested; and for that reason, as well as for the sake of that high-breeding which I still hope distinguishes some Englishmen, I vote that we accept the invitation, in appropriate terms.” “You express me exactly, Richard,” said the chairman, with an abrupt nod—“except that I shall have something to add.” “I think it’s very unfair,” said Sprot, “to those of us who are uncomfortable in this valley. I do protest most earnestly against my surroundings. Who are our neighbours here? Twelve lunatics who drivel all day on a rock; a most suspicious-looking individual who rides about on a goat, which is contempt of civilization; a flock of gibbering servants; and a person who calls himself Dragon and lives on an island in the middle of a lake. I ask you, Can anybody feel confidence in people who behave like that?” “What do you think, Quentin?” Sombrewater hoped to extinguish Sprot in the draught of Quentin’s eloquence; but Quentin was lazy in the heat, and Europe-sick, and only murmured of some scandalous adventure with a brocaded young lady on a summer’s afternoon in Spain (where he was engaged in the sale of electrical goods). She had consented, he remembered, because of a poetical feeling for the warm and indolent splendour of the afternoon, and there was a whole Spanish landscape in her torrid embrace. “Interesting,” said the chairman, “but irrelevant. Terence, I think we can anticipate your views—and yours, Blackwood. Your vote is to remain, I am sure, Fulke?” “My vote,” said Fulke sullenly, “is to stay here, if we must, but to send the girls immediately back to the ship.” “Hear, hear,” said Sprot. “Why?” asked Quentin, stirring. “Because, in my opinion, as far as one of them is concerned, if she doesn’t go away from this valley now she never will. She’ll be bewitched, if she isn’t already, and go against Nature.” “But how nice for her,” said Quentin, “to go against Nature! It will be an experience. That’s what we all desire, I presume, and find so difficult to get—experiences, strange experiences. People are so unwilling to lend themselves to experience.” “Ambrose knows what I mean,” replied Fulke, still sullen and hang-dog with thwarted passion.