He must leave this
dining room, with its plants and old pictures and quaint homeliness,
leave the little Phipps' cottage, leave its owner.... The dazzling
visions of sands and sphinxes, of palms and pyramids, suddenly lost
their dazzle. The excitement caused by the reading of the letter dulled
and deadened. The conviction which had come upon him so often of late
returned with redoubled vigor, the conviction that he had been happy
where he was and would never be as happy anywhere else. Egypt, even
beloved Egypt with all the new and wonderful opportunities it now
offered him, did not appeal. The thought was alarming. When he did
not want to go to Egypt there must be something the matter with him,
something serious. What was it?

After dinner he told her of the offer which had been made him.

"Perhaps you would like to see the letter," he said. "It is a very kind
one. Dear me, yes. Much kinder than I deserve."

She read the long letter through, read the details of the great plan
from end to end. When the reading was finished she sat silent, the
letter in her lap, and she did not look at him.

"They are very kind to me, aren't they?" he said, gravely. "Very kind
and generous. The thought of it quite--ah--overwhelms me, really. Of
course, I know what they say concerning my--ah--the value of my service
is quite ridiculous, overstated and--and all that, but they do
that thinking to please me, I suppose. I... Why--why, Miss Martha,
you--you're not--"

She smiled, a rather misty smile. "No," she said, "I'm not. But I think
I shall if you keep on talkin' in that way."

"But--but, Miss Martha, I'm so sorry. I assure you I did not mean to
hurt your feelings. If I have said anything to distress you I'm VERY
sorry. Dear me, dear me! What did I say? I--"

She motioned him to silence. "Hush, hush!" she begged. "You didn't say
anything, of course, except what you always say--that what you have
done doesn't amount to anything and that you aren't of any consequence
and--all that. You always say it, and you believe it, too. When I read
this letter, Mr. Bangs, and found that THEY know what you really are,
that they had found you out just as--as some of your other friends have,
it--it--"

She paused. Galusha turned red. "I--I--" he stammered. "Oh, you mustn't
talk so, Miss Martha. It's all nonsense, you know. Really it is."

She shook her head and smiled once more.

"All right," she argued. "Then we'll call it nonsense; but it's