‘Yes; and absolutely unconscious of the humour of her behaviour,’ said Fielding.  ‘That’s so delightful about her.’  He paused for a second and asked, ’Have you ever been inside a camera obscura?  You get a picture, an impression, very vivid, very accurate, of something that is actually happening.  Then some one pulls a string and you get a totally different picture, equally vivid, equally accurate, of something else which is actually happening.  There is no trace of the first picture in the second.  Then they open a shutter and you see nothing but a plain white slab.  Somehow I always think of Miss Le Mesurier’s mind.’

After leaving Mrs. Willoughby’s, Conway and Miss Le Mesurier walked together in the direction of Beaufort Gardens.

‘Do you see much of Mr. Drake?’ she asked, after a considerable silence.

‘Not as much as one would wish to.  He’s generally busy.’

‘You like him, then?’ she asked curiously.  ‘Why?’

’Don’t you?  There’s an absence of pretension about him.  Nothing of the born-to-command air, but insensibly you find yourself believing in him, following him.  I believe even Fielding finds that as well.  When Drake first came back I used to stand up for him—­well, because, perhaps, I had a reason of my own.  I am not sure that I believed all I said, but I am sure now I should say exactly the same and believe every word of it.’

He spoke with a quiet conviction which gave solid weight to his words, owing to its contrast with the flighty enthusiasm which was the usual characteristic of his eulogies.

‘You mentioned Mr. Fielding,’ she said.

’Yes; haven’t you heard?  He’s investing in Matanga Concessions, and largely for him.  He’s often seen in Drake’s office.’

Clarice walked along in silence for some way further.  Then she said, with a distinct irritation in her voice, ’I suppose it all comes from the fact that Mr. Drake doesn’t seem to need any one to rely upon, or—­well—­any particular incentive to work.’

Conway glanced at Miss Le Mesurier with a slight surprise.  She was generally given to accept facts without inquiry into their causes.  ’I shouldn’t wonder if you are right.  Drake, I should think, would find his incentive in the work itself.  Yes; I believe you are right.  It’s just his single-mindedness which influences one.  There are certain ideas fixed in his mind, combined into one aim, and he lets nothing interfere to obscure that aim.’

So he spoke; so, too, Clarice believed, and that picture of moonlight on the veld became yet more vivid, yet more frequent in her thoughts.  Pondering upon it, her fancy led her to exaggerate Drake into the likeness of some Egyptian god, that sits with huge hands resting upon massive knees, and works out its own schemes behind indifferent eyes.  The sight of him, and the sound of commonplace words from his mouth, would at times make her laugh at the conception and restore her to her former familiarity with him.  But the fancy returned to her, and, each time, added a fresh layer to the colour of her thoughts.  She came now and again to betray a positive shrinking from him.  Drake noticed it; he noticed something else as well:  in the first week of July the emerald ring reappeared upon her finger.