six biscuits. He gave me some
coffee. When he had finished he drew a long breath and gave
Caliban a piece of silver money and Caliban kissed it. Then
Roger took another cigar and told Caliban to fetch a match
and then he asked me if I would like to walk by the sea for
a little.

"I ought to find this Hester of yours," he said, "but I
won't just yet. I am too comfortable. Will you come out with
me?"

So I said I would, and that was all my hospitality, dear
Jerry. I had learned better when you came, had I not? This
letter has been so long that I cannot write any more.

Your MARGARITA.

My Margarita! The very words are not like any other two words. I think
no woman's name is so purely sweet to the ear, so grateful on the
tongue. My Margarita! Alas, alas....

As to that walk by the sea, I have never been able to get any
satisfactory account of it. Any, that is, which could hope to prove
satisfactory to one who did not know Roger. Such an one might be
incredulous, in face of all that had gone before, when assured that
Roger paced back and forth on the firm sand, filling his lungs in the
clean sea air, puffing his cigar in perfect silence, Margarita at his
heels as silent as he, and the big Danish hound at hers, more silent
than either. But so it was. To me who know them both, nothing could
seem more natural. They were healthy, well-poised animals, well fed,
supplied with plenty of fresh air (a prime necessity to them both)
and in congenial company. Neither of them was given to consideration
of the past or prognostication of the future; both of them were
content. Roger has always had that priceless faculty of reserving
mental processes, apparently, until they are necessary. When they are
not, he lays them by, as a sportsman lays by his gun, and the teasing,
relentless imps that poison the rest of us with futile regrets for the
past and vain hopes for the future avoid him utterly. It is the pure
Anglo Saxon corner-stone of that great, slow wall which I firmly
believe is destined to encircle the world, one day. Your slender,
brown peoples with their throbbing, restless brains and curious,
trembling fingers may--and doubtless will--build the cathedrals and
paint the frescoes therein and write the songs to be sung there; but
they must hold their land from Roger and his kind and look to him to
guard them safe and unmolested th