“I do not call that a small gift, Fernandez, and I am very much obliged to you; but I will take it to Miss Gordon, and, later on, she will thank you personally.”
“They are superb!” exclaimed Mr. Pollitt, rapturously. “I shall give her diamonds—to correspond.”
Incongruous pair though they were, Mr. Pollitt and Mr. Cardozo hit it off surprisingly well. Fernandez’s florid manner, Oriental ideas, and ornamental language interested the hard-headed matter-of-fact little Englishman. They walked and smoked and argued noisily together, whilst Mark rode away to visit a certain newly-made grave, and to take leave of the Persian lady.
“Ah, my friend, I have been waiting for you,” she said, rising from the chabootra, or band-stand. “I thought you would surely come to say farewell. Of course you are going away?”
“Yes. I am going away immediately.”
“And you will marry her—now—and gain your heart’s desire?”
“I hope so. And I am come to offer you what may fulfil yours!”
She stared at him with an air of almost fierce inquiry.
“It is the Yellow House. Will you accept it, for your lifetime? You said you wished for a large bungalow in a central position—and there you are!”
“The Yellow House! Oh, it is too much. No, I could not take it, not even for my poor. No, no, no!” and she shook her head with an air of decision.