"Then you must speak lower," she said, "and pretend to be watching the stream."
Professor Rawson gleefully scraped her plate and snuggled up in her poncho. She was very happy. When she could eat no more she asked Jones what his theory might be concerning Wagner's influence on Richard Strauss, and Jones said he liked waltzes, but didn't know that the man who wrote The Simple Life had anything to do with that sort of thing. And Professor Rawson laughed and laughed, and quoted a Greek proverb; and presently arose and went into the shanty, dropping the blanket behind her.
"Don't sit up late!" she called sleepily.
"Oh, no!" came the breathless duet.
"And don't forget to feed the swan!"
"Oh, no!"
A few minutes later a gentle, mellow, muffled monotone vibrated in the evening air. It was the swan-song of Professor Rawson.
Ellis laid fresh logs on the blaze, lighted a cigarette, and returned to his seat beside Molly Sandys, who sat, swathed in her poncho, leaning back against the base of a huge pine.
"Jones is right," he said; "the simple life—the older and simpler emotions, the primal desire—is a state of mind."