“You could not do a wiser thing,” says Starlight, “in one way, or more foolish thing in another. Meantime, why should we not make the best of the pleasant surroundings with which Nature provides us here—green turf, sparkling water, good sport, and how bright a day! Could we be more favoured by Fortune, slippery dame that she is? It is an Australian Decameron without the naughty stories.”

“Do you know, sometimes I really think I am enjoying myself,” said Aileen, half to herself, “and then I feel that it must be a dream. Such dreadful things are waiting for me—for us all.” Then she shuddered and trembled.

She did not know the most dreadful thing of all yet. We had care fully kept it from her. We chanced its not reaching her ears until after she had got home safe and had time to grieve over it all by herself.

We had a kind of feeling somehow that us four might never meet again in the same way, or be able to enjoy one another’s company for a month, without fear of interruption, again, as long as we lived.

So we all made up our minds, in spite of the shadow of evil that would crawl up now and then, to enjoy each other’s company while it lasted, and make the best of it.

Starlight for all that seemed altered like, and every now and then he’d go off with Warrigal and stay away from daylight to dark. When he did come he’d sit for hours with his hands before him and never say a word to anyone. I saw Aileen watching him when he looked like that, not that she ever said anything, but pretended to take it as a matter of course.

Other times he’d be just as much the other way. He’d read to her, and he had a good many books, poetry, and all kinds of things stowed away in the part of the cave he called his own. And he’d talk about other countries that he’d been in, and the strange people he’d seen, by the hour together, while she would sit listening and looking at him, hardly saying a thing, and regular bound up in his words. And he could talk once he was set agoing. I never saw a man that could come up to him.