feelings of pleasure, interest, and pain, which combine to make up the ordinary day, were merged in one long-drawn sensation of sordid misery and profound boredom.  He had never been so bored since he was shut up in the nursery alone as a child.  The vision of Rachel as she was now, confused and heedless, had almost obliterated the vision of her as she had been once long ago; he could hardly believe that they had ever been happy, or engaged to be married, for what were feelings, what was there to be felt?  Confusion covered every sight and person, and he seemed to see St. John, Ridley, and the stray people who came up now and then from the hotel to enquire, through a mist; the only people who were not hidden in this mist were Helen and Rodriguez, because they could tell him something definite about Rachel.

Nevertheless the day followed the usual forms.  At certain hours they went into the dining-room, and when they sat round the table they talked about indifferent things.  St. John usually made it his business to start the talk and to keep it from dying out.

“I’ve discovered the way to get Sancho past the white house,” said St. John on Sunday at luncheon.  “You crackle a piece of paper in his ear, then he bolts for about a hundred yards, but he goes on quite well after that.”

“Yes, but he wants corn.  You should see that he has corn.”

“I don’t think much of the stuff they give him; and Angelo seems a dirty little rascal.”

There was then a long silence.  Ridley murmured a few lines of poetry under his breath, and remarked, as if to conceal the fact that he had done so, “Very hot to-day.”

“Two degrees higher than it was yesterday,” said St. John.  “I wonder where these nuts come from,” he observed, taking a nut out of the plate, turning it over in his fingers, and looking at it curiously.

“London, I should think,” said Terence, looking at the nut too.

“A competent man of business could make a fortune here in no time,” St. John continued.  “I suppose the heat does something funny to people’s brains.  Even the English go a little queer.  Anyhow they’re hopeless people to deal with.  They kept me three-quarters of an hour waiting at the chemist’s this morning, for no reason whatever.”

There was another long pause.  Then Ridley enquired, “Rodriguez seems satisfied?”

“Quite,” said Terence with decision.  “It’s just got to run its course.”  Whereupon Ridley heaved a deep sigh.  He was genuinely sorry for every one, but at the same time he missed Helen considerably, and was a little aggrieved by the constant presence of the two young men.

They moved back into the drawing-room.

“Look here, Hirst,” said Terence, “there’s nothing to be done for two hours.”  He consulted the sheet pinned to the door.  “You go and lie down.  I’ll wait here.  Chailey sits with Rachel while Helen has her luncheon.”

It was asking a good deal of Hirst to tell him to go without waiting for a sight of Helen.  These little glimpses of Helen were the only respites from strain and boredom, and very often they seemed to make up for the discomfort of the day, although she might not have anything to tell them.  However, as they were on an expedition together, he had made up his mind to obey.