the man who, not much more than a
dozen hours ago, had been haunted by an uncomfortable dread, lest she
should claim and exact this very proprietorship in the life she had
saved. And indeed, if Roden Musgrave was in some danger of losing his
head it is little to be wondered at--remembering time and place, his own
weakened but restful state, the warm and sensuous surroundings, and this
magnificent creature bending over him, with the light of love in her
eyes, a caress in every tone of her voice. With all his
clear-headedness and cynical mind, his was by no means a cold
temperament; indeed, very much the reverse. But what kept his head
level now was the ice-current of an ingrained cynicism flowing through
the hothouse temperature, the intoxicating fragrance of what was
perilously akin to a long-forgotten feeling--namely, love. The present
state of affairs was delightful, rather entrancing; but how was it going
to end? In but one way of coarse--when she was tired of it, tired of
him. This sort of thing never did last--oh no! He had seen too much of
it in his time.

To his last remark, however, Mona made no direct rejoinder. There was
nothing unduly effusive about her, and this went far towards enhancing
her attractiveness in his eyes. In the tendernesses she showed him
there was nothing overpowering, nothing of gush; and keenly observing
her every word, every action, he noted the fact, and was duly impressed.
About her there was no jarring note; all was in perfect harmony.

Now sitting there they talked--talked on matters not limited by the
boundaries of the district of Doppersdorp, or those of the Cape Colony,
but on matters that were world wide. And on such Mona loved to listen;
for of the world he possessed far greater knowledge than falls to the
lot of most men, and of human nature likewise--this man who at middle
age, for some reason, found himself compelled to fill a position usually
occupied by youngsters starting in life. But while delighting in his
keen, trenchant views upon men and matters, Mona failed not to note that
there was one subject upon which he never dwelt, and that subject was
himself.

"You give me new life," he said, dropping his hand upon hers as she sat
beside him. "What a pity we did not come together before--before I had
made such a hash of the old life. But," with a queer smile, "I am
forgetting. You would have been in short frocks then, in very short
frocks. I am quite an old