my youth."

"Don't talk rubbish before luncheon," I remarked sternly, and we
all laughed, the first wholesome laughter that I had heard at the
Temple. For this young lady seemed to bring happiness and
merriment with her. I remember wondering what it was of which
her coming reminded me, and concluding that it was like the sight
and smell of a peach orchard in full bloom stumbled on suddenly
in the black desert of the burnt winter veld.

After this we became quite friendly. She dilated on her skill in
having produced the Temple from an old engraving, which she
fetched and showed to us, at no greater an expense than it would
have cost to build an ordinary house.

"That is because the marble was at hand," said Anscombe.

"Quite so," she replied demurely. "Speaking in a general sense
one can do many things in life--if the marble is at hand. Only
most of us when we look for marble find sandstone or mud."

"Bravo!" said Anscombe, "I have generally lit upon the
sandstone."

"And I on the mud," she mused.

"And I on all three, for the earth contains marble and mud and
sandstone, to say nothing of gold and jewels," I broke in, being
tired of silence.

But neither of them paid much attention to me. Anscombe did say,
out of politeness, I suppose, that pitch and subterranean fires
should be added, or some such nonsense.

Then she began to tell him of her infantile memories of Hungary,
which were extremely faint; of how they came this place and lived
first of all in two large Kaffir huts, until suddenly they began
to grow rich; of her school days at Maritzburg; of the friends
with whom she had been staying, and I know not what, until at
last I got up and went out for a walk.

When I returned an hour or so later they were still talking, and
so continued to do until Dr. Rodd arrived upon the scene. At
first they did not see him, for he stood at an angle to them, but
I saw him and watched his face with a great deal of interest.
It, or rather its expression, was not pleasant; before now I have
seen something like it on that of a wild beast which thinks that
it is about to be robbed of its prey by a stronger wild beast, in
short, a mixture of hate, fear and jealousy--especially jealousy.
At the last I did not wonder, for these two seemed to be getting
on uncommonly well.

They were, so to speak, well matched. She, of course, was the
better looking of the two, a really pretty and attractive young
woman indeed, but