They arrived before lunch, and when Glen saw Mrs. Prevost he was at once struck with her peculiar charm of manner. No sooner was he in her presence than all her doubts and agitation vanished, and she exerted herself to her utmost to please him.
Glen was quite willing to be pleased by this handsome woman, whose preference for him was already beginning to be marked.
Jerry smiled as he watched her. He knew her powers. No woman had ever gone so near to capturing him as she, but he had steeled himself against her. His career did not include a wife; he could not afford the luxury, he said.
It was a nice luncheon. Glen thoroughly enjoyed it, and complimented Mrs. Prevost on the possession of such an excellent cook.
"He's a Chinaman," she said smiling. "One of the despised heathens, but I have had him several years, and he has served me well. I found him."
"Yes. It's quite correct; strange though it seems."
"Some years ago when he was quite young. He lived with his uncle in Lower George Street. He offended the great man in some way, and he turned him out of the house. He was wandering about when I came along. He spoke to me, pleaded hard for me to make him my servant. Strange, was it not? Something prompted me to take him in. I did, and have never regretted it. He appears to have one set purpose in life, to pay his uncle, Lin Soo, back in his own coin, and have his revenge. Most unchristian-like isn't it? But of course he's a heathen," she said laughing.
"Not exactly, but I know of him. He keeps an infamous den in Lower George Street."
"To outward appearances, but inside it's an opium den, a gambling hell, and worse," Glen replied.
Glen did not care to pursue the subject and she asked no further questions.
No mention was made of Craig Bellshaw, and Glen left, not knowing she was intimate with the squatter. He promised to call again. She knew by his ready acceptance that she had made a favourable impression, and she was more pleased than she had been for many a day. She walked to the steamer with them, and when the boat left sat down on a seat at one side of the wharf. Why should she not have her share of happiness in life? It had been denied her so far. There had been riotous living, and much pleasure, but no peace, no contentment. It was all a struggle, and part of a game which she had been forced to play, but never cared for.