," said Jean smiling cheerfully.

"That cave man stuff?" he asked, and shook his head. "She'd raise Cain."

Jean was laughing inside herself, but she did not show her merriment.

"You can but try," she said. "I've already told you how it can be
done."

"I'll try to-morrow," he said after a thought. "By heavens, I'll try
to-morrow!"

It was on the tip of her tongue to say "Not to-morrow," but she checked
herself.

Mordon came round with the car to pick her up soon after. Mordon! Her
little chin jerked up with a gesture of annoyance, which she seldom
permitted herself. And yet she felt unusually cheered. Her meeting with
the Moor was a milestone in her life from which memory she could draw
both encouragement and comfort.

"You met Muley?" said Lydia. "How thrilling! What is he like, Jean? Was
he a blackamoor?"

"No, he wasn't a blackamoor," said the girl quietly. "He was an
unusually intelligent man."

"H'm," grunted her father. "How did you come to meet him, my dear?"

"I picked him up on the beach," said Jean coolly, "as any flapper would
pick up any nut."

Mr. Briggerland choked.

"I hate to hear you talking like that, Jean. Who introduced him?"

"I told you," she said complacently. "I introduced myself. I talked to
him on the beach and he talked to me, and we sat down and played with
the sand and discussed one another's lives."

"But how enterprising of you, Jean," said the admiring Lydia.

Mr. Briggerland was going to say something, but thought better of it.

There was a concert at the theatre that night and the whole party went.
They had a box, and the interval had come before Lydia saw somebody
ushered into a box on the other side of the house with such evidence of
deference that she would have known who he was even if she had not seen
the scarlet fez and the white robe.

"It is your Muley," she whispered.

Jean looked round.

Muley Hafiz was looking across at her; his eyes immediately sought the
girl's, and he bowed slightly.

"What the devil is he bowing at?" grumbled Mr. Briggerland. "You didn't
take any notice of him, did you, Jean?"

"I bowed to him," said his daughter, not troubling to look round. "Don't
be silly, father; anyway, if he weren't nice, it would be quite the
right thing to do. I'm the most distinguished woman in the house because
I know Muley Hafiz, and he has bowed to me! Don't you realise the social
value of a lion's recognition?"

Lydia could not see him distinctly