d their way to the king and his party
in their flight, and were despatched to Mount Khalak for such of
their belongings as they could collect, and the island sovereign was
well content.

"Ah well now," he had just observed, languidly surveying the
tropical horizon through a cool glass of winking amber bubbles, "one
must learn that to touch is far more delicate than to lift. It is
more wonderful to have been the king of one moment than the ruler of
many. It is better to have stood for an instant upon a rainbow than
to have taken a morning walk through a field of clouds. The
principle has long been understood, but few have had--shall I
say the courage?--to practise it. Yet 'courage' is a term
from-the-shoulder, and what I require is a word of finger-tips,
over-tones, ultra-rays--a word for the few who understand that to
leave a thing is more exquisite than to outwear it. It is by its
very fineness circumscribed--a feminine virtue. Women understand it
and keep it secret. I flatter myself that I have possessed the high
moment, vanished against the noon. Ah, my dear fellow--" he added,
lifting his glass to St. George's smile.

But little Cawthorne--all reality in his heliotrope outing and duck
and grey curls--raised a characteristic plaint.

"Oh, but I've done it," he mournfully reviewed. "When'll I ever be
in another island, in front of another vacated throne? Why didn't I
move into the palace, and set up a natty, up-to-date little
republic? I could have worn a crown as a matter of taste--what's the
use of a democracy if you aren't free to wear a crown? And what kind
of American am I, anyway, with this undeveloped taste for acquiring
islands? If they ever find this out at the polls my vote'll be
challenged. What?"

"Aw whee!" said Bennietod, intent upon a Roman candle, "wha' do you
care, Mr. Cawt'orne? You don't hev to go back fer to be a
child-slave to Chillingwort'. Me, I've gotta good call to jump
overboard now an' be de sonny of a sea-horse, dead to rights!"

St. George looked at them all affectionately, unconscious that
already the experience of the last three days was slipping back into
the sheathing past, like a blade used. But he was dawningly aware,
as he sat there at Olivia's feet in glorious content, that he was
looking at them all with new eyes. It was as if he had found new
names for them all; and until long afterward one does not know that
these moments of bestowing new names mark the near breathing of