risk
of missing my orange a week hence for your sake, than I would deprive
myself of it to-day."

"And that is your simplicity."

"That is my simplicity. It is indeed a perfectly simple matter, for
there is only one idea in it, and in all things I carry that one idea
out to its ultimate expression. That one idea, as you very well put it,
is to have exactly what I want in this world."

"And will you be getting what you want in having me quartered upon you
as poor Israel Kafka's keeper?" asked the Wanderer, with an expression
of amusement. But Keyork did not wince.

"Precisely," he answered without hesitation. "In the first place you
will relieve me of much trouble and responsibility, and the Individual
will not be so often called away from his manifold and important
household duties. In the second place I shall have a most agreeable and
intelligent companion with whom I can talk as long as I like. In the
third place I shall undoubtedly satisfy my curiosity."

"In what respect, if you please?"

"I shall discover the secret of your wonderful interest in Israel
Kafka's welfare. I always like to follow the workings of a brain
essentially different from my own, philanthropic, of course. How could
it be anything else? Philanthropy deals with a class of ideas wholly
unfamiliar to me. I shall learn much in your society."

"And possibly I shall learn something from you," the Wanderer answered.
"There is certainly much to be learnt. I wonder whether your ideas upon
all subjects are as simple as those you hold about oranges."

"Absolutely. I make no secret of my principles. Everything I do is for
my own advantage."

"Then," observed the Wanderer, "the advantage of Unorna's life must be
an enormous one to you, to judge by your satisfaction at her safety."

Keyork stared at him a moment and then laughed, but less heartily and
loudly than usual his companion fancied.

"Very good!" he exclaimed. "Excellent! I fell into the trap like a rat
into a basin of water. You are indeed an interesting companion, my dear
friend--so interesting that I hope we shall never part again." There was
a rather savage intonation in the last words.

They looked at each other intently, neither wincing nor lowering his
gaze. The Wanderer saw that he had touched upon Keyork's greatest and
most important secret, and Keyork fancied that his companion knew more
than he actually did. But nothing further was said, for Keyork was far
too wise to enter