man, confused by this change of
interest. "I mean, that's quite the usual thing, isn't it, for
deserts? I got up a good breeze going, for I was a bit wrought up,
you know--not a soul in Cairo had seen Jack since that day."

"And he was out at his camp," said Jinny thoughtfully. "How--how
long had he been there?"

"He says he started that night," said McLean non-committally.

"Oh!... That night.... That was rather sudden, wasn't it?"

"Jack's sudden, you know," mentioned his friend uncomfortably. "And
he had a lot of finds to pack up for transport--they are taking
their stuff to the museum and Jack had been away so long, here in
the city--"

"No wonder I didn't hear then!" said the girl with a laugh in which
it would have taken an acuter ear than McLean's to detect the secret
clamor of chagrin and humiliation.

Of course she had _wanted_ Jack to be safe.... But he might have
been ill--or away on some official summons--

Just back at his diggings. Gone off on an impulse, with no thought
to let her know....

And she had rushed to McLean with her silly worries and her anxious
concern which he had probably taken for a tender interest....

Heaven knows what disillusionizing thing Jack had said to him that
day!... Men were too hateful.

And now McLean had come dutifully to report that the man she was so
worried about was quite well and busy, thank you, only he had
overlooked any friendship for her, and so had sent no word--

In Jinny's ears was the rush of the furies' wings. But on Jinny's
lips was a proud little smile, and her bright look was a shining
shield for the wounds of the spirit.

"That _is_ a comfort," she said with pleasant, friendly warmth. "You
don't know how horridly responsible I felt! Really, Jack ought to
have let me know--but that's Jack all over. He's never grown up."

"He's not had much time," returned McLean from the height of his
twenty-nine years.

"He never will," said Jinny sagely, "not until--well, not until
he meets some girl, you know, who will make him feel really
responsible."

It occurred unhappily to McLean that the girl Jack had been meeting
so assiduously of late had certainly not added to his claims to
responsibility!

Steadily he guarded silence. There are ice fields, on Mont Blanc,
where a whisper precipitates an avalanche, and McLean had no
intention of starting anything in his friend's slippery field of
affairs.

"I have spent more time," Miss Jeffries was confid