That was where he would
blunder--in the catching and the holding of her. And then, in spite of
all his certitude, Sheldon could not forbear wondering if his theories of
Joan might not be wrong, and if Tudor was not going the right way about
after all.
The situation was very unsatisfactory and perplexing. Sheldon played the
difficult part of waiting and looking on, while his rival devoted himself
energetically to reaching out and grasping at the fluttering prize. Then,
again, Tudor had such an irritating way about him. It had become quite
elusive and intangible, now that he had tacitly severed diplomatic
relations; but Sheldon sensed what he deemed a growing antagonism and
promptly magnified it through the jealous lenses of his own lover's eyes.
The other was an interloper. He did not belong to Berande, and now that
he was well and strong again it was time for him to go. Instead of
which, and despite the calling in of the mail steamer bound for Sydney,
Tudor had settled himself down comfortably, resumed swimming, went
dynamiting fish with Joan, spent hours with her hunting pigeons, trapping
crocodiles, and at target practice with rifle and revolver.
But there were certain traditions of hospitality that prevented Sheldon
from breathing a hint that it was time for his guest to take himself off.
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