changed for his evening meal. There is an odd suggestion of a dinner
jacket about his doeskin coat. It is, perhaps, too grave a face for
a man of thirty-two, as if he were over much immersed in affairs, yet
there is a sunny smile left to lighten it at times and bring back its
youth; perhaps too intellectual a face to pass as strictly handsome,
not sufficiently suggestive of oats. His tall figure is very straight,
slight rather than thick-set, but nobly muscular. His big hands, firm
and hard with labour though they be, are finely shaped--note the
fingers so much more tapered, the nails better tended than those of his
domestics; they are one of many indications that he is of a superior
breed. Such signs, as has often been pointed out, are infallible. A
romantic figure, too. One can easily see why the women-folks of this
strong man's house both adore and fear him.

He does not seem to notice who is waiting on him to-night, but inclines
his head slightly to whoever it is, as she takes her place at the back
of his chair. LADY MARY respectfully places the menu-shell before him,
and he glances at it.)

CRICHTON. Clear, please.

(LADY MARY knocks on the screen, and a serving hutch in it opens,
through which TWEENY offers two soup plates. LADY MARY selects the
clear, and the aperture is closed. She works the punkah while the master
partakes of the soup.)

CRICHTON (who always gives praise where it is due). An excellent soup,
Polly, but still a trifle too rich.

LADY MARY. Thank you.

(The next course is the fish, and while it is being passed through the
hutch we have a glimpse of three jealous women.

LADY MARY'S movements are so deft and noiseless that any observant
spectator can see that she was born to wait at table.)

CRICHTON (unbending as he eats). Polly, you are a very smart girl.

LADY MARY (bridling, but naturally gratified). La!

CRICHTON (smiling). And I'm not the first you've heard it from, I'll
swear.

LADY MARY (wriggling). Oh God!

CRICHTON. Got any followers on the island, Polly?

LADY MARY (tossing her head). Certainly not.

CRICHTON. I thought that perhaps John or Ernest--

LADY MARY (tilting her nose). I don't say that it's for want of asking.

CRICHTON (emphatically). I'm sure it isn't. (Perhaps he thinks he has
gone too far.) You may clear.

(Flushed with pleasure, she puts before him a bird and vegetables, sees
that his beaker is fitted with wine, and returns to the punkah. She
would l