I may succeed
without any of that--eh?"

"Yes," Gordon was obliged to admit with a gulp, as if he were swallowing
his pride, and he knew that in saying the word he was degrading his
sister--throwing her at this man's feet as the price of his honour.

With a half-contemptuous nod Victor Durnovo turned, and went away to
keep his appointment with Meredith.

CHAPTER XX. BROUGHT TO THE SCRATCH

Take heed of still waters; they quick pass away.

Guy Oscard was sitting on the natural terrace in front of Durnovo's
house at Msala, and Marie attended to his simple wants with that patient
dignity which suggested the recollection of better times, and appealed
strongly to the manhood of her fellow-servant Joseph.

Oscard was not good at the enunciation of those small amenities which
are supposed to soothe the feelings of the temporarily debased. He
vaguely felt that this woman was not accustomed to menial service, but
he knew that any suggestion of sympathy was more than he could compass.
So he merely spoke to her more gently than to the men, and perhaps she
understood, despite her chocolate-coloured skin.

They had inaugurated a strange, unequal friendship during the three days
that Oscard had been left alone at Msala. Joseph had been promoted to
the command of a certain number of the porters, and his domestic duties
were laid aside. Thus Marie was called upon to attend to Guy Oscard's
daily wants.

"I think I'll take coffee," he was saying to her in reply to a question.
"Yes--coffee, please, Marie."

He was smoking one of his big wooden pipes, staring straight in front of
him with a placidity natural to his bulk.

The woman turned away with a little smile. She liked this big man with
his halting tongue and quiet ways. She liked his awkward attempts to
conciliate the coquette Xantippe--to extract a smile from the grave
Nestorius, and she liked his manner towards herself. She liked the
poised pipe and the jerky voice as he said, "Yes--coffee, please,
Marie."

Women do like these things--they seem to understand them and to attach
some strange, subtle importance of their own to them. For which power
some of us who have not the knack of turning a pretty phrase or throwing
off an appropriate pleasantry may well be thankful.

Presently she returned, bringing the coffee on a rough tray, also a box
of matches and Oscard's tobacco pouch. Noting this gratuitous attention
to his comfort, he looked up with a little l