Ida looked at Dick. "That can't apply to us, who have no long experience
to fall back upon."

"I've only made one venture of the kind, but I've just discovered that it
turned out right."

Fuller smiled. "That's neat." Then he turned to Ida. "But I wasn't
talking about women. They don't need experience."

"Sometimes you're merely smart, and sometimes you're rather deep, but I
can't decide which you are just now," Ida rejoined. "However, I expect
you're longing to get back to the plans."

"No," said Fuller. "They have to be thought of, but life isn't all a
matter of building dams. Now I'm getting old, I've found that out."

"And you? Have you any opinion on the subject?" Ida asked Dick.

Dick hesitated, wondering whether she meant to put him at his ease or was
amused by his seriousness.

"I don't imagine my views are worth much and they're not very clear. In a
way, of course, it's plain that Mr. Fuller's right--"

"But after all, building dams and removing rocks may very well come
first?"

Dick pondered this. So far, his profession had certainly come first. He
was not a prig or a recluse, but he found engineering more interesting
than people. Now he came to think of it, he had been proud of Helen's
beauty, but she had not stirred him much or occupied all his thoughts.
Indeed, he had only once been overwhelmingly conscious of a woman's
charm, and that was in Kenwardine's garden. He had lost his senses then,
but did not mean to let anything of the kind happen again.

"Well," he said diffidently, "so long as you're content with your
occupation, it doesn't seem necessary to make experiments and look for
adventures. I expect it saves you trouble to stick to what you like and
know."

He noted Ida's smile, and was silent afterwards while she argued with her
father. He did not want to obtrude himself, and since they seemed to
expect him to stay, it was pleasant enough to sit and listen.

The air was getting cooler and the moon had risen and cast a silver track
across the sea. The distant rumble of the surf came up the hillside in a
faint, rhythmic beat, and the peaks above the camp had grown in
distinctness. A smell of spice drifted out of the jungle, and Dick, who
was tired, was sensible of a delightful languor. The future had suddenly
grown bright and besides this, Ida's gracious friendliness had given him
back his confidence and self-respect. He was no longer an outcast; he had
his chance of making good and re