"
"Alone?" he laughed. "No success?"
"None whatever," said Denis. And it seemed as if a shadow flitted
across his face at these words.
That cloud, that change of tone--what did they portend? Something might
be wrong, then, after all. Perhaps Keith had been correct in his
diagnosis when he observed that a susceptible mind like this could be
shaken out of its equilibrium by the influence of Nepenthe--"capable of
anything in this clear pagan light." It was not Mr. Heard's habit to
probe into the feelings of others--as to those of a person like Denis he
did not pretend to understand them. Artistic people! Incalculable!
Inconsequential! Irresponsible! Quite another point of view! Yet he
could not help thinking of that doleful black rock, with the
turquoise-tinted water at its foot. Remembering these things he felt a
sudden access of sympathy towards this lonesome fellow-creature.
Instead of pursuing the subject of the expedition he asked, quite
abruptly:
"Tell me, Denis, are you happy here?"
"How odd that you should come with that question! I had a letter from
my mother this morning.
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