"Have you then?"
"Yes," he nodded complacently, "oh yes, I've found it."
"Are you—sure?"
"Quite sure!"
"Arcadia!" she repeated, wrinkling her brows, "what is Arcadia and—where?"
"Arcadia," answered Bellew, watching the smoke rise up from his pipe, with a dreamy eye, "Arcadia is the—Promised Land,—the Land that everyone tries to find, sometime or other, and may be—anywhere."
"And how came you to—find it?"
"By the most fortunate chance in the world."
"Tell me," said Anthea, taking a wisp of hay, and beginning to plait it in dexterous, brown fingers, "tell me how you found it."
"Why then you must know, in the first place," he began in his slow, even voice, "that it is a place I have sought for in all my wanderings, and I have been pretty far afield,—but I sought it so long, and so vainly, that I began to think it was like the El Dorado of the old Adventurers, and had never existed at all."