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AN AFRICAN MILLIONAIRE
He rowed away and left us. As the boat began to disappear round the corner of the island, White Heather—so she looked—stood up in the stern and shouted aloud through her pretty hands to us. 'By-bye, dear Sir Charles!' she cried. 'Do wrap the rug around you! I'll send the men to fetch you as soon 
I climbed to the top of the cliff.as ever I possibly can. And thank you so much for those lovely flowers!'
The boat rounded the crags. We were alone on the island. Charles flung himself on the bare rock in a wild access of despondency. He is accustomed to luxury, and cannot get on without his padded cushions. As for myself, I climbed with some
