"Did you know _him_? He _was_ a nice young fellow. Very nice he was. But he wouldn't know me now. Very stay-at-home I was when he used to come to Mulberry Cottage. Why, he tried to make me ride in a hansom once, and I was actually too nervous. You know, I'd got into a regular rut. But now, well, upon me word, I don't believe now I should say 'no' if any one was to invite me to ride inside of a whale. It's her doing, the tartar." Avery had learned a certain amount of Arabic during his stay in Morocco and he made the bazaars of Tetuan much more interesting than Don Alfonso could have done. He also had many tales to tell of the remote cities like Fez and Mequinez and Marakeesh. Sylvia almost wished that she could pack Mrs. Gainsborough off to England and accompany him into the real interior. Some of her satisfaction in Tetuan had been rather spoiled that morning by finding a visitor's book in the hotel with the names of traveling clergymen and their daughters patronizingly inscribed therein. However, Avery decided to ride away almost at once, and said that he intended to banish the twentieth century for two or three months. They stayed a few days at Tetuan, but the bugs were too many for Mrs. Gainsborough, who began to sigh for a tranquil bed. Avery and Sylvia had a short conversation together before they left. He thanked her for her sympathy, held to his intention of spending the summer in Morocco, but was nearly sure he should return to England in the autumn, with a mind serenely fixed. "I wish, if you go back to London, you'd look Jenny up," he said. Sylvia shook her head very decidedly. "I can't imagine anything that would annoy her more, if she's the girl I suppose her to be." "But I'd like her to have a friend like you," he urged. Sylvia looked at him severely. "Are you quite sure that you don't want to change her?" she asked. "Of course. Why?" "Choosing friends for somebody else is not very wise; it sounds uncommonly like a roundabout way of developing her. No, no, I won't meet your Jenny." "I see what you mean," Avery assented. "I'll write to Michael and tell him I've met you. Shall I tell him about Lily? Where is she now?" "I don't know. I've never had even a post-card. My fault, really. Yes, you can tell Michael that she's probably quite happy and--no, I don't think there's any other message. Oh yes, you might say I've eaten one or two rose-leaves but not enough yet." Avery looked puzzled. "Apuleius," she added. "Strange girl. I _wish_ you would go and see Jenny." "Oh no! She's eaten all the rose-leaves she wants, and I'm sure she's not the least interested in Apuleius." Next day Sylvia and Mrs. Gainsborough set out on the return journey to Tangier, which, apart from a disastrous attempt by Mrs. Gainsborough to eat a prickly pear, lacked incident. "Let sleeping pears lie," said Sylvia.