"
"Then," said Hamlyn, "I shouldn't wonder if it was. Anyhow, the less
you see of him, Wheatley, the better. Take my word for that."
"But," I objected--and I must admit that I have a habit of thinking
that everybody follows my train of thought--"it's such a small place
that, if he goes, I should be almost bound to meet him."
"What's such a small place?" cried Beatrice, with emphasized despair.
"Why, Neopalia, of course," said I.
"Why should anybody except you be so insane as to go there?" she
asked.
"If he's the man I think, he comes from there," I explained, as I rose
for the last time; for I had been getting up to go, and sitting down
again, several times.
"Then he'll think twice before he goes back," pronounced Beatrice,
decisively; she was irreconcilable about my poor island.
Denny and I walked off together. As we went he observed:
"I suppose that chap's got no end of money?"
"Stefan--?" I began.
"No, no. Hang it, you're as bad as Miss Hipgrave says. I mean Bennett
Hamlyn."
"Oh, yes, absolutely no end to it, I believe."
Denny looked sagacious.
"He's very free with his dinners," he observed.
"Don't let's worry about it," I suggested, taking his arm. I was not
worried about it myself. Indeed, for the moment, my island monopolized
my mind, and my attachment to Beatrice was not of such a romantic
character as to make me ready to be jealous on slight grounds.
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