Then Diana drew David on to tell of his African congregations, of the weird experiences in those wild regions; of the perils of the jungle, and the deep mystery of the forest. And he made it all sound so fascinating and delightful, that Mrs. Marmaduke Vane became quite expansive, announcing, as she helped herself liberally to _pâté-de-foie-gras_, that she did not wonder people enjoyed being missionaries. "You should volunteer, Chappie dear," said Diana. "I daresay the society sends out ladies. Only--fancy, if you came back as thin as Cousin David!" In the drawing-room, she sent him to the piano; and Mrs. Vane allowed her coffee to grow cold while she listened to David's music, and did not ask Diana to send for more, until David left the music stool. Then Diana reminded her chaperon of an engagement she had at Eversleigh. "The motor is ordered at half-past two, dear; and be sure you stay to tea. Never mind if they don't ask you. Just remain until tea appears. They can but say: '_Must_ you stay? _Can't_ you go?' And they won't do that, because they are inordinately proud of your presence in their abode." Mrs. Vane rose reluctantly, expressing regret that she had unwittingly made this engagement, and murmuring something about an easy postponement by telegram. But Diana was firm. Such a disappointment must not be inflicted upon any family on Boxing-day. It could not be contemplated for a moment. Mrs. Marmaduke Vane took David's hand in both her plump ones, and patted it, kindly. "Good-bye, my dear Mr. Rivers," she said with _empressement_. "And I hope you will have a quite delightful time in Central Africa. And mind," she added archly, "if Diana decides to come out and see you there, _I_ shall accompany her." Honest dismay leapt into David's eyes. "It is no place for women," he said, helplessly. Then looked at Diana. "I assure you, Miss Rivers, it is no place for women." "Never fear, Cousin David," laughed Diana. "You have fired Mrs. Vane with a desire to rough it; but I do not share her ardour, and she could not start without me. Could you, Chappie dear? Good-bye. Have a good time." She turned to the fire, with an air of dismissal, and pushed a log into place with her toe. David opened the door, waited patiently while Mrs. Vane hoarsely whispered final farewell pleasantries; then closed it behind her portly back. When he returned to the hearthrug, Diana was still standing gazing thoughtfully into the fire, one arm on the mantel-piece. "Oh, the irony of it!" she said, without looking up. "She hopes you will have a quite delightful time; and, as a matter of fact, you are going out to die! Cousin David, do you _really_ expect never to return?" "In all probability," said David, "I shall never see England again. They tell me I cannot possibly live through another five years out there. They think two, or at most three, will see me through. Who can tell? I shall be grateful for three."