The next morning came bright and beautiful, with a pleasant fresh breeze. It was just the day for a run in the yacht. So I thought when I mounted on deck at eight o'clock in the morning. Watkins was there, staring meditatively at the harbour and the street beyond. Perceiving me, he touched his hat and observed:
'It's a queer little place, my lord.'
My eyes followed the direction of Watkins's, and I gave a slight sigh.
'Do you think the island is going to be quiet now, Watkins?' I asked.
I do not think that he quite understood my question, for he said that the weather looked like being fine. I had not meant the weather; my sigh was paid to the ending of Neopalia's exciting caprices; for, though the end was prosperous, I was a little sorry that we had come to the end.
'The Lady Phroso w
