"Right," said St. George. "I'll report at eight o'clock. Amory can
board _The Aloha_ when he gets ready and take down whom he likes."

"On my life, old chap, it's a private view of Kedar's tents to me,"
said Amory, his eyes shining behind his pince-nez. "I'll probably
win wide disrespect by my inability to tell a mainsail from a
cockpit, but I'm a grateful dog, in spite of that."

When they were gone St. George sat by the fire. He read Amory's
story of the Boris affair in the paper, which somewhere in the
apartment Rollo had unearthed, and the man took off his master's
shoes and brought his slippers and made ready his bath. St. George
glanced over his shoulder at the attractively-dismantled table, with
its dying candles and slanted shades.

"Gad!" he said in sheer enjoyment as he clipped the story and saw
Rollo pass with the towels.

It was so absurdly like a city room's dream of Arcady.




CHAPTER II

A SCRAP OF PAPER


To be awakened by Rollo, to be served in bed with an appetizing
breakfast and to catch a hansom to the nearest elevated station were