onsciousness; but he
seems in no hurry to return to his friends, the big, blond soldiers. On
the contrary, he draws a chair up to our table.

"Do they ever get _prawns_ here?" say I, with apparent irrelevancy, not
being able to disengage my mind from the thought of shell-fish, "or is
it too far inland? I am _so_ fond of them, and I fancied that these
gentlemen--" (slightly indicating the broad, blue warrior-backs)--"were
eating some."

His mouth curves into a sudden smile.

"Was that why you came to look?"

I laugh.

"I did not mean to be seen: that person must have had eyes in the back
of his head."

I relapse into silence, and fish for the sprigs of woodruff floating in
my Mai-Trank, while the talk passes to Sir Roger. Presently I become
aware that the stranger is addressing me by that new title which makes
me disposed to laugh.

"Lady Tempest, have you seen those lamps that they have here, in the
shape of flowers? Cockney sort of things, but they are rather pretty."

"No," say I, eagerly, dropping my spoon and looking up; "_in the shape
of flowers_? Where?"

"You cannot see them from here," he answers; "they are over there,
nearer the river."

"I should like to see them," say I, decisively; "shall we, general?"

"Will you spare Lady Tempest for five minutes?" says the young man,
addressing my husband; "it is not a hundred yards off."

At _my_ words Sir Roger had made a slight movement toward rising; but,
at the stranger's, he resettles himself in his chair.

"Will you not come, too? Do!" say I, pleadingly; and, as I speak, I half
stretch out my hand to lay it on his arm; then hastily draw it back,
afraid and ashamed of vexing him by public demonstrations.

He looks up at me with a smile, but shakes his head.

"I think I am lazy," he says; "I will wait for you here."

We set off; I with a strongish, but unexplained feeling of resentment
against my companion.

"Where are they?" I ask, pettishly; "not far off, I hope! I do not fancy
I shall care about them!"

"I did not suppose that you would," he replies, in an extremely happy
tone; "would you like us to go back?"

"No," reply I, carelessly, "it would not be worth while now we have
started."

We march on in solemn silence, not particularly pleased with each other.
I am staring about me, with as greedily wondering eyes as if I were a
young nun let loose for the first time. We pass a score--twoscore,
threescore, perhaps--of happy parties, soldi