THE DREAM It was a fortnight after the wedding, on an evening of intense heat, that Everard Monck, now established with Tommy at The Green Bungalow, came in from polo to find the mail awaiting him.

He sauntered in through the verandah in search of a drink which he expected to find in the room which Stella during her brief sojourn had made more dainty and artistic than the rest, albeit it had never been dignified by the name of drawing-room.

There was light green matting on the floor and there were also light green cushions in each of the long wicker chairs.

Curtains of green gauze hung before the windows, and the fierce sunlight filtering through gave the room a strangely translucent effect.

It was like a chamber under the sea.
It had been Monck's intention to have his drink and pass straight on to his own quarters for a bath, but the letters on the table caught his eye and he stopped.