with a little jacket of white flannel, all made with neatness and
style. He suggested a stroll, and they walked out to the old Indian
well on the hill road. They sat on the curb, and there Geddie made
the expected but long-deferred speech. Certain though he had been
that she would not say him nay, he was still thrilled at the
completeness and sweetness of her surrender. Here was surely a heart
made for love and steadfastness. Here was no caprice or questionings
or captious standards of convention.

When Geddie kissed Paula at her door that night he was happier than
he had ever been before. "Here in this hollow lotus land, ever
to live and lie reclined" seemed to him, as it has seemed to many
mariners, the best as well as the easiest. His future would be
an ideal one. He had attained a Paradise without a serpent. His
Eve would be indeed a part of him, unbeguiled, and therefore more
beguiling. He had made his decision tonight, and his heart was full
of serene, assured content.

Geddie went back to his house whistling that finest and saddest love
song, "La Golondrina." At the door his tame monkey leaped down from
his shelf, chattering briskly. The consul turned to his desk to get
him some nuts he usually kept there. Reaching in the half-darkness,
his hand struck against the bottle. He started as if he had touched
the cold rotundity of a serpent.

He had forgotten that the bottle was there.

He lighted the lamp and fed the monkey. Then, very deliberately,
he lighted a cigar, and took the bottle in his hand, and walked down
the path to the beach.