"I can get on very well without either the sin or the love," she remarked as she helped herself to a cup that was mostly milk, and with no sugar in it.

"I thought all girls liked sweet things and lived for love," he said as he set about serving the omelet.

"There's a lot more in life for women nowadays than love."

"Being in love is a woman's normal condition," he said in a forcible, dogmatic manner.

Pansy smiled.

"I always thought you had come out of the Ark, and now I'm sure of it.

You've got such antiquated, early Victorian ideas about women. They mustn't wear knickers. They must always be yearning after some mere male. Very flattering to him, I'm sure," she finished, wrinkling a disdainful nose.

Le Breton's gaze rested on the vivid, beautiful little face, with the full, perfect, generous mouth, telling of an unselfish, disinterested nature that would love swiftly and deeply.

"Some day you'll find yourself in love before you know it," he commented.

"So other people have said. And it makes me horribly nervous at times.

Like a blind man walking on the edge of a precipice."

"So long as you fell in love with a man who could appreciate you, it would be all right,--a man sufficiently versed in women to know you have qualities beyond your beauty to recommend you."

With some surprise Pansy glanced at him.

A soft heart lay beneath her light manner. Quite half her income was spent for the benefit of others. She wondered how he knew about these "qualities," considering their brief acquaintance. And she wondered, too, why she was sitting there discussing love with him; a subject she never would let any man approach, if it could be avoided. She put it down to the fact that her ident.i.ty was unknown to him, and she could talk to him freely, knowing her millions were no temptation.

"One thing," she said mischievously, "money will never attract me.

I've no expensive tastes. I like views and flowers and sunsets. Moons and stars and seas and sago pudding. Horses and chocolates and--my own way. All things that don't require a tremendous income."

There was a brief silence.

In a calculating manner Le Breton watched her. She was a new type to him; a girl who could not be approached in the way most women could be--by the easy route of costly presents.

The air was heavy with the scent of roses. In the distance a guitar was playing; a throb of melody, faint and seductive, that fed the craving in the man's heart.

Pansy glanced at him.

"How quiet you are all at once. What are you thinking about?"

"Ways and means," he replied, smiling slightly.

"I thought only hard-up people were troubled in that way."

"The trouble with me now is that I want something which I fear can't be bought with money."

"What an unpleasant position for a millionaire to be in. Still, it makes you 'realise your limitations,' as an old governess of mine used to say."

She paused for a moment, watching him with an air of subtle mockery.

"And, Mr. Le Breton, it won't do you any harm to have to go without a few of the things you want. There's a look about you as if you always had things too much your own way."

"I'm not so sure yet that I'm going to do without it. Fortunately I have two other courses left open to me--persuasion and power," he replied.

"Power! I thought that was the prerogative of kings."

Le Breton said nothing. He knew if this English girl had any idea who he was, she would not be sitting there talking to him so freely.

Although he was the Sultan of El-Ammeh, in the eyes of her nation he was a "n.i.g.g.e.r."

There was a further silence which Pansy broke.

"What made you swim out all those miles the other night?" she asked.

"I get moods when I want to lose the earth and find a heaven to my own liking."

"What sort of heaven would that be?"

"Where there would be only one houri, and she all-sufficing."

"A houri? Why that's a sort of Mohammedan angel-woman."

Evidently Le Breton was in a confessional mood, for he said:

"Nowadays I often wonder what use my life is. There's no pleasure in it except, perhaps--women."

"So long as it's 'women,' it's all right. The trouble starts when it comes to--'woman.'"

These words from the innocent girl's lips made him laugh.

"Who told you that?" he asked.

"Captain Cameron. He likes to pose as an authority on such subjects."

"And who is Captain Cameron?"

There was a suspicion of jealousy in Le Breton's voice.

"At present he's possessed with a demon of tennis. But when the devil has been cast out, he's my father's secretary."

"And how can the devil be cast out?"

"There's no really permanent cure, but it can be a.s.suaged _pro tem_, if he meets someone who can beat him. In Teneriffe, he carried all before him. And he's coming over here to-morrow to beat all the local champions. He's one of the few people I really like. I've known him all my life."

These remarks of hers had the effect of reducing Le Breton to silence again.

CHAPTER VIII