not the slightest objection to a gentlemanly gamble. Once more his
companion had revealed himself as an accomplished amateur.

No; it was something else that annoyed him about the man--certain almost
contemptuous remarks he had dropped in the course of the evening on the
subject of the female sex; not any particular member of it, but the sex
in general. Mr. Heard was sensitive on that point. He was not
disheartened by experience. He had never allowed his judgment to be
warped by those degrading aspects of womanhood which he had encountered
ruing his work among the London poor, and more recently in Africa,
where women are treated as the veriest beasts. He kept his ideals
bright. He would tolerate no flippant allusions to the sex. Muhlen's
talk had left a bad taste in his mouth.

And here he was, prancing up and down, sublimely pleased with himself.
Mr. Heard watched his perambulations with mixed feelings--moral
disapproval combining with a small grain of envy at the fellow's
conspicuous immunity from the prevailing sea-sickness.

A weed; unquestionably a weed.

Meanwhile, the mainland slowly receded. Morning wore on, and under the
fierce attraction of the sun the fogs were drawn upwards. Nepenthe
became tangible--an authentic island. It gleamed with golden rocks and
emerald patches of culture. A cluster of white houses, some town or
village, lay perched on the middle heights where a playful sunbeam had
struck a pathway through the vapours. The curtain was lifted. Half
lifted; for the volcanic peaks and ravines overhead were still shrouded
in pearly mystery.