t the corner of the lawn neighed lowly, and gave
Isaacs an opportunity of looking away.

"Miss Westonhaugh," he said quietly, "you know I am a Mussulman, and
that I am married. It may be that I have borrowed a phrase from your
language which expresses more than I would convey, though it would ill
become me to withdraw my last words, since they are true."

It was my turn to be curious now. I wondered where his boldness would
carry him. Among his other accomplishments, this man was capable of
speaking the truth even to a woman, not as a luxury and a _bonne
bouche_, but as a matter of habit. As I looked, the hot blood mantled up
to his brows. She was watching him, and womanlike, seeing he was in
earnest and embarrassed, she regained her perfect natural composure.

"Oh, I had forgotten!" she said. "I forgot about your wife in Delhi."
She half turned in the hammock, and after some searching, during which
we were silent, succeeded in finding a truant piece of worsted work
behind her. The wool was pulled out of the needle, and she held the
steel instrument up against the light, as she doubled the worsted round
the eye and pushed it back through the little slit. I observed that
Isaacs was apparently in a line with the light, and that the threading
took some time.

"Mr. Griggs," she said slowly, and by the very slowness of the address I
knew she was going to talk to me, and at my friend, as women will; "Mr.
Griggs, do you know anything about Mohammedans?"

"That is a very broad question," I answered; "almost as broad as the
Mussulman creed." She began making stitches in the work she held, and
with a little side shake settled herself to listen, anticipating a
discourse. The little jackal sidled up and fawned on her feet. I had no
intention, however, of delivering a lecture on the faith of the prophet.
I saw my friend was embarrassed in the conversation, and I resolved, if
possible, to interest her.

"Among primitive people and very young persons," I continued, "marriage
is an article of faith, a moral precept, and a social law."

"I suppose you are married, Mr. Griggs," she said, with an air of
childlike simplicity.

"Pardon me, Miss Westonhaugh, I neither condescend to call myself
primitive, nor aspire to call myself young."

She laughed. I had put a wedge into my end of the conversation.

"I thought," said she, "from the way in which you spoke of 'primitive
and young persons' that you considered their opinion in rega