be improving everything and everybody. It can't leave well alone. It must be thrusting its morals and customs on people who have very nice ones of their own—only they are not Western, that's all. We have too many conventional ideas over here. Superstitious observances that are just as foolish as any in the South Seas—more foolish indeed. Now I'm shocking you, Hesther, I'm afraid. Hesther," he explained to Harkness, "is the daughter of an English country doctor—a very fine fellow. But she hasn't travelled much yet. She only married my son a month ago. This is their honeymoon, and it is very nice of them to take their old father along with them. He appreciates it, my dear." 

 He raised his glass and bowed to her. She smiled very faintly, staring at him for an instant with her large brown eyes, then looking down at her plate. 

 "I have been driven," Crispin explained, "into the East by my collector's passions as much as anything. You know, perhaps, what it is to be a collector, not of anything especial, but a collector. Something in the blood worse than drugs or drink. Something that only death can cure. I don't know whether you care for pretty things, Mr. Harkness, but I have some pieces of jade and amber that would please you, I think. I have, I think, one of the best collections of jade in Europe." 

 Harkness said something polite. 

 "The trouble with the collector is that he is always so much more deeply interested in his collection than any one else is, and he is not so interested in a thing when he owns it as he was when he was wondering whether he could afford it. 

 "However, women like my jade. Their fingers itch. It is pleasant to see them. Have you ever felt the collector's passion yourself?" 

 "In a tiny way only," said Harkness. "I have always loved prints very dearly, etchings especially. But I have so small and unimportant a collection that I never dream of showing it to anybody. I have not the means to make a real collection, but if I were a millionaire it is in that direction that I think I would go. Etchings are so marvellously human, unaccountably personal." 

 "Why, Herrick, listen to that! Mr. Harkness cares about etchings! We must show him some of ours. I have a 'Hundred Guilders' and a 'De Jonghe' that are truly superb. Do you know my favourite etcher in the world? I am sure that you will never guess." 

 "There is a large field to choose from," said Harkness, smiling. 

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