A night-wind was blowing fragrant and cool. The
dark boughs of the trees waved to and fro against the background
of deep blue sky. The lime leaves rustled softly, the perfume of
roses came floating across from the flower-gardens. Trent stood
quite still, listening and thinking.
"God! what a beast I am!" he muttered. "It was there she sat!
I'm not fit to breathe the same air."
He looked back towards the house. The figures of the two girls,
with Da Souza standing now between them, were silhouetted against
the window. His face grew dark and fierce.
"Faugh!" he exclaimed, "what a kennel I have made of my house!
What a low-down thing I have begun to make of life! Yet - I was
a beggar - and I am a millionaire. Is it harder to change oneself?
To-morrow" - he looked hard at the place where she had sat -
"to-morrow I will ask her!"
On his way back to the house a little cloaked figure stepped out
from behind a shrub. He looked at her in amazement. It was the
little brown girl, and her eyes were wet with tears.
"Listen," she said quickly. "I have been waiting to speak to you!
I want to say goodbye and to thank you. I am very, very sorry, and
I hope that some day very soon you will make some more money and be
happy again.
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