looked at the thing with eyes wide with astonishment, but with lips
mute.

A more satisfactory evening she had never spent, Mrs. Linton felt; and
now the fan was hanging down among the brocaded flowers of her dress,
making them look tawdry as she left the box, and noticed how at
least two men were lying in wait for her party. There was, however, a
frankness in Herbert Courtland's strategy which George Holland's did
not possess. Mr. Courtland was looking directly at her; Mr. Holland was
pretending to be engrossed in conversation with a man in one of the end
stalls.

She lifted a finger and Courtland went to her side. The difficulties of
the jungle along the banks of the Fly River were trifling compared with
the obstacles he had to overcome in obeying her.

"I had no idea that you would be here," she said.

"Where else should I be?" he said, in so low a tone as to be heard only
by her.

"We are so glad," said Mrs. Linton. "I want to present you to my dearest
friend, Phyllis Ayrton."

"A woman!" said he.

"Not yet. She has never met a man. She will to-night," said Ella. Then
she turned to Phyllis, who was walking beside Lord Earlscourt. "Come
here, Phyllis," she said; "you are the only person in London who doesn't
yet know Mr. Herbert Courtland. This is Mr. Courtland."