'It is a fine night. To-morrow it will be a fine day with a gentle breeze. We will go sailing among the Outer Islands.'
'The air is heavy with perfume. What is it? Surely an enchanted land!'
'It is the scent of the lemon-verbena tree—see, here is a sprig. It is very sweet.'
'How silent it is here! Night after night never to hear a sound.'
'Nothing but the sound of the waves. They never cease. Listen—it is a calm night. But you can hear them lapping on the beach.'
Ten minutes later, when they returned to the house, they found candles lighted and supper spread. A substantial supper, such as was owed to a man who had had no dinner. There was cold roast fowl and ham; there was a lettuce-salad and a goodly cheese. And there was the unexpected and grateful sight of a 'Brown George,' with a most delectable ball of white froth at the top. Also, Roland remarked the presence of the decanter containing the blackberry wine.
'Now you shall have some supper.' Armorel assumed the head of the table and took up the carving-knife. 'No, thank you—I can carve very well. Besides, you are our visitor, and it is a pleasure to carve for you. Will you have a wing or a leg? Do you like your ham thin? Not too thin? Oh, how hungry you must be! That is ale—home-brewed ale: will you take some? or would you prefer a glass of the blackberry wine? No?—help yourself.'
'The beer for me,' said Roland. He filled and drank a tumbler of the beverage dear to every right-minded Briton. It was strong and generous, with flakes of hop floating in it like the bee's-wing in port. 'This is splendid beer,' he said. 'I do not remember that I ever tasted such beer as this. It is humming ale—October ale—stingo. No wonder our forefathers fought so well when they had such beer as this to fight upon!'
'Peter is proud of his home-brewed.'
'Do you make everything for yourselves? Is Samson sufficient for all the needs of the islanders? This beer is the beer of Samson—strong and mighty. My hair is growing long already—and curly.'