ever talked of her effusively, even
to Lester, tried and true comrade as he was, for was naturally a
self-contained and somewhat reserved man, as one could tell by his
deep-set, stern grey eyes, and square jaw and chin.

"Damn her!" muttered Lester to himself, as he stood on the topgallant
foc'scle watching the two boats with their toiling crews of
brown-skinned natives; "nearly five months since she last saw him, and
there she sits calmly watching us as if we had only sailed yesterday.
Afraid of the sun! She's too selfish and too frightened of spoiling her
pretty pink-and-white skin--that's what it is."

An hour later the boats came alongside, and then, as the chain rattled
through the hawse-pipes, Brabant came on deck dressed in a suit of
spotless white.

"Shall we see you this evening, Jim?" he asked, as he stood waiting to
receive the Customs officer and doctor, whose boats were approaching.

"Thank you very much, sir, but I would rather stay on board this
evening, as Dr. Bruce is sure to come into town some time to-day, as
soon as he hears the _Maritana_ is here, and I should not like to miss
him."

"Just as you please, Jim. But why not take a run on shore with him, and
both of you come up for an hour or two after dinner?"

The mate nodded. "Yes, we could do that, I think; but at the same time,
Mrs. Brabant won't much care about visitors this evening, I'm afraid."

"My wife will be only too delighted, Jim," replied the captain in his
grave manner; "you and Bruce are my oldest friends--that is quite enough
for her."

The port doctor and Customs officer came on board and warmly greeted
the captain of the _Maritana_ for, apart from his being one of the
wealthiest traders in the South Seas, John Brabant was essentially a
man who made friends--made them insensibly, and then his beautiful young
wife was the acknowledged belle of the small European community in Fiji,
and his house, when he returned from one of his trading voyages, was
literally an open house, for every one--traders, storekeepers, cotton
planters, naval men or merchant skippers--knew there was a welcome
awaiting them in the big bungalow on the hillside at whatever time they
called, day or night. Such hospitality was customary in those old Fijian
days, when every cotton planter saw before him the shining portals of
the City of Fortune inviting him to enter and be rich, and every trader
and trading captain made money so easily that it was hard to sp