endi's harem? Is she not rather some strange sea-creature
that clambered on board the vessel and bewitched the miserable boy,
sucked the soul out of him, and drove him to destruction? Or is she a
Vampire? Or a Succubus? Or a Hamadryad? Or a Salamander?

One thing, I vow she is not human.

If only Judith were here to advise me! And yet I have an uneasy feeling
that Judith will suggest, with a certain violence that is characteristic
of her, the one course which I cannot follow: to send Carlotta back to
Hamdi Effendi. But I cannot break my word. I would rather, far rather,
break Carlotta's beautiful neck. I have not written to Judith. Nor, by
the way, have I received a letter from her. Delphine has been whirling
her off her legs, and she is ashamed to confess the delusion of the
sequestered life. I wish I were enjoying myself half as much as Judith.

"I have adopted Mademoiselle," said I to Antoinette this morning. "If
she returned to Asia Minor they would put a string round her neck, tie
her up in a sack, and throw her into the sea."

"That would be a pity," said Antoinette, warmly.

"_Cela depend_," said I. "Anyhow she is here, and here she remains."

"In that case," said Antoinette, "has Monsieur considered that the poor
angel will need clothes and articles of toilette--and this and that and
the other?"

"And shoes to hide her shameless tus," I said.

"They are the most beautiful toes I have ever seen!" cried Antoinette in
imbecile admiration. She has bewitched that old woman already.

I put on my hat and went to Wellington Road to consult Mrs. McMurray.
Heaven be thanked, thought I, for letting me take her little boy the day
before yesterday to see the other animals, and thus winning a mother's
heart. She will help me out of my dilemma. Unfortunately she was not
alone. Her husband, who is on the staff of a morning newspaper, was
breakfasting when I arrived. He is a great ruddy bearded giant with
a rumbling thunder of a laugh like the bass notes of an organ. His
assertion of the masculine principle in brawn and beard and bass
somewhat overpowers a non-muscular, clean-shaven, and tenor person like
myself. Mrs. McMurray, on the contrary, is a small, bright bird of a
woman.

I told my amazing story from beginning to end, interrupted by many
Hoo-oo-oo-oo's from McMurray.

"You may laugh," said I, "but to have a mythical being out of
Olympiodorus quartered on you for life is no jesting matter."

"Olymp--?" be