Bateman felt as though someone had given him a violent blow on the funny-bone and he was conscious that he turned red and then white. But before he could think of anything to say a native boy brought in a great bowl of soup and the whole party sat down to dinner. Arnold Jackson's remark seemed to have aroused in him a train of recollections, for he began to talk of his prison days. He talked quite naturally, without malice, as though he were relating his experiences at a foreign university. He addressed himself to Bateman and Bateman was confused and then confounded. He saw Edward's eyes fixed on him and there was in them a flicker of amusement. He blushed scarlet, for it struck him that Jackson was making a fool of him, and then because he felt absurd--and knew there was no reason why he should--he grew angry. Arnold Jackson was impudent--there was no other word for it--and his callousness, whether assumed or not, was outrageous. The dinner proceeded. Bateman was asked to eat sundry messes, raw fish and he knew not what, which only his civility induced him to swallow, but which he was amazed to find very good eating. Then an incident happened which to Bateman was the most mortifying experience of the evening. There was a little circlet of flowers in front of him, and for the sake of conversation he hazarded a remark about it. "It's a wreath that Eva made for you," said Jackson, "but I guess she was too shy to give it you." Bateman took it up in his hand and made a polite little speech of thanks to the girl. "You must put it on," she said, with a smile and a blush. "I? I don't think I'll do that." "It's the charming custom of the country," said Arnold Jackson. There was one in front of him and he placed it on his hair. Edward did the same. "I guess I'm not dressed for the part," said Bateman, uneasily. "Would you like a _pareo_?" said Eva quickly. "I'll get you one in a minute." "No, thank you. I'm quite comfortable as I am." "Show him how to put it on, Eva," said Edward. At that moment Bateman hated his greatest friend. Eva got up from the table and with much laughter placed the wreath on his black hair. "It suits you very well," said Mrs Jackson. "Don't it suit him, Arnold?" "Of course it does." Bateman sweated at every pore. "Isn't it a pity it's dark?" said Eva. "We could photograph you all three together." Bateman thanked his stars it was. He felt that he must look prodigiously foolish in his blue serge suit and high collar--very neat and gentlemanly--with that ridiculous wreath of flowers on his head. He was seething with indignation, and he had never in his life exercised more self-control than now when he presented an affable exterior. He was furious with that old man, sitting at the head of the table, half-naked, with his saintly face and the flowers on his handsome white locks. The whole position was monstrous.