voice, 'I suppose it all comes from the fact
that Mr. Drake doesn't seem to need any one to rely upon, or--well--any
particular incentive to work.'

Conway glanced at Miss Le Mesurier with a slight surprise. She was
generally given to accept facts without inquiry into their causes. 'I
shouldn't wonder if you are right. Drake, I should think, would find his
incentive in the work itself. Yes; I believe you _are_ right. It's just
his single-mindedness which influences one. There are certain ideas fixed
in his mind, combined into one aim, and he lets nothing interfere to
obscure that aim.'

So he spoke; so, too, Clarice believed, and that picture of moonlight on
the veld became yet more vivid, yet more frequent in her thoughts.
Pondering upon it, her fancy led her to exaggerate Drake into the
likeness of some Egyptian god, that sits with huge hands resting upon
massive knees, and works out its own schemes behind indifferent eyes. The
sight of him, and the sound of commonplace words from his mouth, would at
times make her laugh at the conception and restore her to her former
familiarity with him. But the fancy returned to her, and, each time,
added a fresh layer to the colour of her thoughts. She came now and again
to betray a positive shrinking from him. Drake noticed it; he noticed
something else as well: in the first week of July the emerald ring
reappeared upon her finger.

In the second week Mr. Le Mesurier removed his household gods to Sark. It
was his habit to spend the summer months upon the island, and to
entertain there his friends in succession. He invited both Mrs.
Willoughby and Stephen Drake. The former accepted, the latter, being on
the eve of floating the Matanga Concessions, declined for the present to
Clarice's great relief, but promised to come later. The company was
floated towards the end of the month, and with immediate success. Mr. Le
Mesurier read out at breakfast a letter which he had received from Drake,
announcing that every share had been taken up on the very day of
flotation.

'Then he is coming,' said Clarice. 'When?'

Mr. Le Mesurier mistook his daughter's anxiety, and smiled satisfaction
at her. 'To-morrow,' he replied; 'but only for three days at first.
There's some new development he speaks of. He will have to leave again on
Saturday for a fortnight.'

Clarice sat thoughtfully for a minute or two. Then she asked: 'Did you
invite Mr. Mallinson this summer?'

Mr. Le Mesurier shuffled