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"A tonic?" she had said. "Very likely! But not a tonic for men and
women. A tonic for horses."
After luncheon they improvised a shelter in order to repose awhile. It
was the right thing to do on Nepenthe at that hour of the day, and Mr.
Keith tried to conform to custom even under unusual circumstances such
as these. Protected by the boat's scarlet awning from the rays of the
sun, they slumbered through the flaming hours.



CHAPTER XXIII


The duchess was a good sleeper, as befitted a person of regular habits
and pure life.
It was her custom to retire for the night at about eleven o'clock.
Angelina, who reposed in an adjoining room, would enter softly at nine
in the morning, draw up the blinds, and deposit a cup of tea at the
bedside of her mistress. Up to that moment, she would slumber like a
child. Rarely did she suffer from insomnia or nightmare. On this
particular night, however, her rest was troubled by a strange and
disquieting dream.
She was a little girl once more, at her parental home out West.


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