"A letter from home?" she cried laughingly. "One would think so from the important way in which you announce it. What is it?"
"A pet--a wonder of a pet," he said. "Hey! Jing-a-ling, or whatever your name is, bring that thing up here." A native came running up from the rear bearing in his arms, a small, ugly cub, its eyes scarcely opened. She gave vent to a little shriek and drew back.
"Ugh! The horrid thing! What is it?"
"A baby leopard. He's to be our house cat."
"Never! I never saw an uglier creature in my life. What a ponderous head, what mammoth feet, and what a miserably small body! Where are the spots?"
"He gets 'em later, just as we get gray hairs--sign of old age, you know. And he outgrows the exaggerated extremities. In a few months he'll be the prettiest thing you ever saw. You must teach him to stand on his head, jump through a hoop, tell fortunes and pick out the prettiest lady in the audience, and I'll get you a position with a circus when we go to America. You'd be known on the bills as the Royal Izor of the Foofops and her trained leopard, the Only One in Captivity."
"You mean the only leopard, I presume," she smiled.
"Certainly not the only lady, for there are millions of them in that state."
They had their dinner by torchlight and then took their customary stroll through the village.
"There seems to be no one in the world but you and I," she said, a sudden loneliness coming over her.