“You said just now,” Millicent answered at length, “that you were not sure yourself--not at first--and therefore you cannot expect me to know all at once.” “You would know at once,” he argued gravely, “if it was going to be no. If you do not say no now, I can only think that it may be yes some day. And”--he came closer--he took the hand that hung at her side--conveniently near--“and I don't want you to say no now. Don't say no! I will wait as long as you like for yes. Millicent, I would rather go on waiting, and thinking that it is going to be yes, even if it is no after all.” She said nothing, but she left her hand in his. “May I go on thinking that it will be yes until I come back?” “I cannot prevent your thinking, can I?” she whispered, with a tender look in her eyes. “And may I write to you?” She shook her head. “Well--I--I--Now and then,” he pleaded. “Not often. Just to remind you of my existence.” She gave a little laugh, which he liked exceedingly, and remembered afterwards. “If you like,” she answered. At this moment Lady Cantourne's voice was heard in the distance, calling them. “There!” exclaimed Millicent. “We must go at once. And no one--no one, mind--must know of this.” “No one shall know of it,” he answered. CHAPTER X. LOANGO Faithful and hopeful, wise in charity, Strong in grave peace, in pity circumspect. Those who for their sins have been to Loango will scarcely care to have its beauties recalled to memory. And to such as have not yet visited the spot one can only earnestly recommend a careful avoidance. Suffice it to say, therefore, that there is such a place, and the curious may find it marked in larger type than it deserves on the map of Africa, on the West Coast of that country, and within an inch or so of the Equator. Loango has a bar, and outside of that mysterious and somewhat suggestive nautical hindrance the coasting steamers anchor, while the smaller local fry find harbour nearer to the land. The passenger is not recommended to go ashore--indeed, many difficulties are placed in his way, and he usually stays on board while the steamer receives or discharges a scanty cargo, rolling ceaselessly in the Atlantic swell. The roar of the surf may be heard, and at times some weird cry or song. There is nothing to tempt even the most adventurous through that surf. A moderately large white building attracts the eye, and usually brings upon itself a contemptuous stare, for it seems to be the town of Loango, marked so bravely on the map. As a matter of fact the town is five miles inland, and the white building is only a factory or trading establishment.