“Copra, bêche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl——”
“Mother-of-pearl! How awfully romantic!” cried Peggy.
“We’ve got a fishery. At any rate, the concession. To work it properly we require capital. That’s why I’m here—to turn the concern into a limited company.”
“And where is this wonderful place?” asked the Dean.
“Huaheine.”
“What a beautiful word!”
“Isn’t it?” said Oliver. “Like the sigh of a girl in her sleep.”
The old Dean shot a swift glance at his nephew; then took his arm and walked on, and looked at the vast mass of the cathedral and at the quiet English garden in its evening shadow.
“Copra, bêche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl, Huaheine,” he murmured. “And these strange foreign things are the commonplaces of your life!”
Peggy and Marmaduke lagged behind a little. She pressed his arm.