He restrained this impulse, however, as Henshaw went on to talk of the piece in hand.
It proved to be Robinson Crusoe, which he had already discussed.

Or, rather, not Robinson Crusoe any longer.

Not even Robinson Crusoe, Junior.

It was to have been called Island Passion, he learned, but this title had been amended to Island Love.
"They're getting fed up on that word 'passion,'" Henshaw was saying, "and anyhow, 'love' seems to go better with 'island,' don't you think, Governor?
'Desert Passion' was all right--there's something strong and intense about a desert.

But 'island' is different." And it appeared that Island Love, though having begun as Robinson Crusoe, would contain few of the outstanding features of that tale.
Instead of Crusoe's wrecked sailing-ship, there was a wrecked steam yacht, a very expensive yacht stocked with all modern luxuries, nor would there be a native Friday and his supposed sister with the tattooed shoulder, but a wealthy young New Yorker and his valet who would be good for comedy on a desert island, and a beautiful girl, and a scoundrel who would in the last reel be thrown over the cliffs.
Henshaw was vivacious about the effects he would get.