He was telling her about himself, his position and prospects, to all of which she was listening keenly, especially as regards the latter, yet without seeming to. She knew, none better, how to lead him on to talk, always without seeming to, and now, to-night, she was simply turning him inside out. He had prospects and good solid ones. He had only come out here partly from love of adventure, partly because, after all, prospects are only prospects; and he wanted to make a fortune--a quick and dazzling fortune by gold-digging. So far, he had been no nearer making it than most others out there on the same tack, in that, for all the gold he had struck, he might as well have sunk a shaft on Hampstead Heath. Still, there was no knowing, and all the exciting possibilities were there to spur him on. Afterwards they sat outside. The night, though warm and balmy, was not oppressive. And it was very still. The screech of the tree frog, the distant yelp of a jackal, the deeper howl of a hyena, broke in upon it from time to time, and the rhythmic drone of voices from the servants' quarters. This soon ceased and the world seemed given over to night-- and these two. "How will you find your way back?" Hermia was saying. "You'll get lost." "That's quite likely. So I'm not going to try. You'll have to give me a shakedown here." "No. Justin, dear, believe me it would be much better not. You must even risk the chance of getting lost." "What if I'm afraid? Suppose one of those lions they've been talking about got hold of me? It would be your doing." Hermia smiled to herself. The excuse was too transparent. He afraid! The gleam of her white teeth in the darkness betrayed her. "It's no laughing matter," he said. "Listen, darling, you don't really want to get rid of me?" "It would be better if you were to go, dearest," she answered, slipping her hand into his. "Believe me, it would." The softness of her voice, the thrill of her touch simply intoxicated him with ecstasy, and there was an unsteadiness in his tone as he answered-- "Surely in the wilds of Mashunaland we can chuck conventionalities to the winds. If it was any one else who asked you for a shakedown you wouldn't turn him out. Why me, then?" "Because it is you, don't you see?" was the reply, breathed low and soft, as the pressure of her fingers tightened. They could hear each other's heart-beats in the still dead silence-- could see the light of each other's eyes in the gleam of the myriad stars. The trailing streak of a meteor shot across the dark, velvety vault, showing in its momentary gleam to each the face of the other. Suddenly Hermia started violently. "Hark! what is that?" she cried, springing to her feet.