I) called our desert island. I was Robinson Crusoe and she was Man
Friday, and on the whole we were quite happy; perhaps I should have been
happier in a temperature of 80° in the shade if I had not been forced to
wear the Polar bear rug from the drawing-room in representation of
Crusoe's goatskins. I did suggest that I should be Robinson Crusoe's
brother, who wore ordinary flannels, and that she should be Woman
Wednesday. But Susan saw through the subterfuge and that game didn't
work. One afternoon, however, Barbara, returning earlier than usual,
caught us at it and expressing horror and indignation at the uses to
which the bearskin was put, metaphorically whipped me and sent me to bed
as being the elder of the naughty ones. After that we played at fairies
in a glade, which was much cooler.

It was in the evenings that I was loneliest; for then Barbara went early
to bed, and the lovers strolled about together in the moonlight. With
the intention, half-malicious, half-pitiful, of filling up my time,
Doria taught me a new and complicated Patience. Then finally, when
Doria, having spent a couple of polite minutes in the drawing-room, had
retired, and when I was tired out from the strain of the day and
half-asleep through weariness, Adrian would mix himself the longest
possible brandy and soda, light the longest possible cigar and try to
keep me up all night listening to his conversation.

At last, one Friday evening, while I was engaged in my forlorn and
unprofitable game, the butler entered the drawing-room with unperturbed
announcement:

"Mr. Chayne on the telephone, sir."

I sent the card table flying amid the wreckage of my lay-out and rushed