money. Then one day I woke up to the fact that I no longer cared a hang about Ethel, one way or another. She was somebody I’d known in another world — that was all. But I had no hankering to go back to the old life. None of that for me. I was free and I meant to keep so. I came to Mistawis — saw Tom MacMurray’s island. My first book had been published the year before, and made a hit — I had a bit of money from my royalties. I bought my island. But I kept away from people. I had no faith in anybody. I didn’t believe there was such a thing as real friendship or true love in the world — not for me, anyhow — the son of Purple Pills. I used to revel in all the wild yarns they told of me. In fact, I’m afraid I suggested a few of them myself. By mysterious remarks which people interpreted in the light of their own prepossessions.