Lady Dewburn is a handsome shrewd-looking woman of middle age. She wears a single eyeglass at times, for greater precision of sight, and because she is the daughter of a permanent official. But though she inspires a certain awe, she is in reality a kind creature, irresistibly impelled to interfere—she hopes for the best—in other people’s affairs, especially out here. Her children are either out in the world or at school in England, and she is exceedingly bored on this feverishly tropical, gloriously squalid island. The day before she had heard all about Lucy from Captain Brentham.... _Lady Dewburn_: "My _poor_ child! _Please_ overlook all formalities and come away with me, _just as you are_. Your woman here—if you can trust her—shall pack up what you have—you can’t have _much_, I should think, after that _appalling_ journey to the coast.... Come away with me.... Why, you must have hardly _any_ clothes to wear! I don’t _wonder_ you stop in bed! We’ve got lots of spare rooms—as a matter of fact, Sir Godfrey and I are alone just now. Come and stay with us till you can look round and make your plans. It seems to me as though I ought to put you to bed for a week to begin with...." Lucy’s acceptance of this Fairy Godmother proposal dissolved from words into gulping sobs and convulsive eye-dabbings and nose-blowing. But she was practical enough to find her sola topi and white umbrella, to make her cotton dress look a little tidier, and gasp a few directions in Swahili to the over-awed Halima. Halima was wearing Lucy’s evening "fichu" all the time and was uneasily conscious of having blundered into felony through ill-timed contempt for her lady. Lucy observed none of this, but followed Lady Dewburn’s fastidious steps down the stairs of palm planks out into the yard, where Mr. Callaway—really a very decent sort, who after all had done his best for Lucy—was awaiting them. He was personally gratified and relieved in his mind that the first lady in Unguja should have taken his forlorn little client under her wing. After picking their way with skirts lifted high through narrow unsavoury lanes between high blank houses, they at last reached Unguja’s one broad highway. Here was a handsomely appointed carriage, and in it they rolled away to the Agency. *CHAPTER XIV* *LUCY’S SECOND MARRIAGE* _From Sir Godfrey Dewburn, K.C.I.E., to Mr. Bennet Molyneux, African Department, Foreign Office._ H.M. Agency and Consulate-General, Unguja, _March_ 15, 1889. DEAR MOLYNEUX,— In the matter of Brentham, I think a private letter to you might meet the case better than an exchange of cables or an official dispatch.