Bradburys. He
further considered it possible that by filling his guest with food and
much wine, he might continue the good work on other prospectuses, thereby
pouching more Bradburys. In the vulgar language in vogue at the period,
however, Vichy water put the lid on that venture with a bang. . . . But
even with champagne it is doubtful whether there would have been much
doing, because--well, because--the man of wealth had his attention for
the moment occupied elsewhere. To be exact on the other side of the
table. . . ."

"Ah!" said Vane, and his breath came in a sort of sigh. "I'm thinking
you had better let me tell this bit. It was just after the slaves had
thrown open the doors, and the guests had seated themselves, that the man
of great wealth chanced to look up from his rusk. He frequently did look
up when consuming these delicacies, otherwise he found they made him
excited, and calmness is necessary for the poor digestion. He looked up
then, as usual, and suddenly he caught his breath. Over a great silver
bowl filled with roses. . . ."

"Carnations sound better," said Joan.

"Filled with carnations he saw a girl. . . . They were pink and red
those carnations--glorious in the shaded light; and the silver and the
glass with which this tribe was wont to feed its face glittered and shone
on the polished table. But the man of wealth had silver and glass as
good, and he had no eyes for that. . . . For it had come to him, and he
was a man who was used to making up his mind quickly, that he had found
the damsel he required. She was dressed--ah! how was she dressed, lady?
She was dressed in a sort of grey gauzy stuff, and her neck and shoulders
gleamed white--gloriously white. A great mass of brown hair which
shimmered as if it was alive; a little oval face, with cheeks that seemed
as if the sun had kissed them. A mouth quite small, with lips that
parted in a mocking smile; a nose--well, just a nose. But crowning
everything--dominating everything--a pair of great grey eyes. What eyes
they were! They made the man of wealth bolt his rusk. There was one
mouthful he only chewed fifteen times instead of the customary
thirty-two. They contained all Heaven, and they contained all Hell; in
them lay the glory of a God, the devilment of a Siren, and the peace of a
woman . . . . And just once she looked at him during dinner--the look of
a stranger--cool and self-possessed. Just casually she wondered whether
i