The sun set in a glory of red and purple that night, spreading the royal colours far across the calm sky.
It faded very quickly. The night swooped down, swift and soundless, and in the verandah of the bungalow known as The Nest a red lamp glowed with a steady beam across the darkness.
Two figures stood for a space under the acacia by the gate, lingering in the evening quiet. Now and then there was the flutter of wings above them, and the white flowers fell and scattered like bridal blossoms all around.
"We must go in," said Stella. "Peter will be disappointed if we keep the dinner waiting."
"Ah! We mustn't hurt his august feelings," conceded Everard. "We owe him a mighty lot, my Stella. I wish we could make some return."
"His greatest reward is to let him serve us," she answered. "His love is the kind that needs to serve."
"Which is the highest kind of love," said Everard holding her to him. "Do you know—Hanani discovered that for me."
She pressed close to his side. "Everard darling, why did you keep that secret so long?"
"My dear!" he said, and was silent.
"Well, won't you tell me?" she urged. "I think you might."