THE INVASION They went together in a double chair, spinning noiselessly over the shell road which wound through oleander and hibiscus hedges.

Great orange and sulphur-tinted butterflies kept pace with them as they travelled swiftly southward; the long, slim shadows of palms gridironed the sunny road, for the sun was in the west, and already a bird here and there had ventured on a note or two as prelude to the evening song, and over the ocean wild ducks were rising in clouds, swinging and drifting and settling again as though in short rehearsal for their sunset flight.
"Your hostess is Mrs.Tom O'Hara," said the girl; "when you have enough of it look at me and I'll understand.

And if you try to hide in a corner with some soulful girl I'll look at you--if it bores me too much.

So don't sit still with an infatuated smile, as Cecile does, when she sees that I wish to make my adieux." "I'm so likely to," he said, "when escape means that I'll have you to myself again." There was a trifle more significance in the unconsidered speech than he had intended.

The girl looked absently straight in front of her; he sat motionless, uncomfortable at his own words, but too wise to attempt to modify them by more words.
Other chairs passed them now along the road--there were nods of recognition, gay salutes, an intimate word or two as the light-wheeled vehicles flashed past; and in a moment more the tall coquina gate posts and iron grille of Mrs.Tom O'Hara's villa, Tsana Lahni, glimmered under an avenue of superb royal palms.
The avenue was crowded with the slender-wheeled basket-bodied chairs gay with the plumage of pretty women; the scene on the lawns beyond was charming where an orange and white pavilion was pitched against the intense green of the foliage, and the pelouse was all dotted and streaked with vivid colours of sunshades and gowns.
"Ulysses among the sirens," she whispered as they made their way toward their hostess, exchanging recognition with people everywhere in the throngs.