an will come plumb out of stark savagery into lawns and
rose-gardens." Lawson flung himself into his chair again and smiled
dreamily at the fire.

"But why here, of all places?" I persisted. I was not feeling very
well and did not care for the country.

"I can't quite explain. I think it's the sort of land I have always
been looking for. I always fancied a house on a green plateau in a
decent climate looking down on the tropics. I like heat and colour,
you know, but I like hills too, and greenery, and the things that bring
back Scotland. Give me a cross between Teviotdale and the Orinoco,
and, by Gad! I think I've got it here."

I watched my friend curiously, as with bright eyes and eager voice he
talked of his new fad. The two races were very clear in him--the one
desiring gorgeousness, the other athirst for the soothing spaces of the
North. He began to plan out the house. He would get Adamson to design
it, and it was to grow out of the landscape like a stone on the
hillside. There would be wide verandahs and cool halls, but great
fireplaces against winter time. It would all be very simple and
fresh--"clean as morning" was his odd phrase; but then another idea
supervened, and he talked of bringing the Tintorets from Hill Street.
"I want it to be a civilised house, you know. No silly luxury, but the
best pictures and china and books. I'll have all the furniture made
after the old plain English models out of native woods. I don't want
second-hand sticks in a new country. Yes, by Jove, the Tintorets are a
great idea, and all those Ming pots I bought. I had meant to sell
them, but I'll have them out here."

He talked for a good hour of what he would do, and his dream grew
richer as he talked, till by the time we went to bed he had sketched
something more like a palace than a country-house. Lawson was by no
means a luxurious man. At present he was well content with a Wolseley
valise, and shaved cheerfully out of a tin mug. It struck me as odd
that a man so simple in his habits should have so sumptuous a taste in
bric-a-brac. I told myself, as I turned in, that the Saxon mother from
the Midlands had done little to dilute the strong wine of the East.

It drizzled next morning when we inspanned, and I mounted my horse in a
bad temper. I had some fever on me, I think, and I hated this lush yet
frigid tableland, where all the winds on earth lay in wait for one's
marrow. Lawson was, as usual, in great