"Poor old chap," said I. I sympathized with him in the loss of his island.
"Here's the house, you see," said Mason, turning to the map, and dismissing the sorrows of the old lord of Neopalia. "About the middle of the island, nearly a thousand feet above the sea. I'm afraid it's a tumble-down old place, and will swallow a lot of money without looking much better for the dose. To put it into repair for the reception of the future Lady Wheatley would cost—"
"The future Lady Wheatley says she won't go there on any account," I interrupted.
"But, my very dear lord," cried he, aghast, "if she won't—"
"She won't, and there's an end of it, Mr. Mason. Well, good day. I'm to have possession in a month?"
"In a month to the very day—on the seventh of May."
"All right, I shall be there to take it;" and escaping from the legal quarter, I made my way to my sister's house in Cavendish Square. She had a party, and I was bound to go by brotherly duty. As luck would have it, however, I was rewarded for my virtue (and if that's not luck in this huddle-muddle world, I don't know what is): the Turkish ambassador dropped in, and presently James came and took me up to him. My brother-in-law, James Cardew, is always anxious that I should know the right people. The pasha received me with great kindness.
"You are the purchaser of Neopalia, aren't you?" he asked, after a little conversation. "The matter came before me officially."
"I'm much obliged," said I, "for your ready consent to the transfer."
"Oh, it's nothing to us. In fact, our tribute, such as it is, will be safer. Well, I'm sure I hope you'll settle in comfortably."