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Half a century ago it was, that meeting you remember how our young men then dressed in white shoes and trousers, white silk shirts, with slashed around the middle the gorgeously colourful Spanish sashes and for half a century that picture of him has not faded in my heart. He was the centre of a group on the lawn, and I was being brought by Ella Higginsworth to be presented.
"And it was arms around with Ella Higginsworth and me, and the Princess, who remembered me, and all the other girls and women, and Ella spoke to the Princess, and the Princess herself invited me to the progress, joining them at Mana whence they would depart two days later. And I was mad, mad with it all I, from a twelvemonth of imprisonment at grey Nahala.
A moment later he came back with a bunch of papers in his hand. "Your name Jones?" he snapped to Andrews. "No." "Snivisky?" "No.... Andrews, John." "Why the hell couldn't you say so?" The man with the mustaches beside the stove got to his feet suddenly. An alert, smiling expression came over his face. "Good afternoon, Captain Higginsworth," he said cheerfully.
And with the Princess was Ella Higginsworth, who rightly claimed higher chief blood lines through the Kauai descent than belonged to the reigning family, and Dora Niles, and Emily Lowcroft, and . . . oh, why enumerate them all! Ella Higginsworth and I had been room-mates at the Royal Chief School.
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