"But sunsets never grow old," she continued, with no apparent
relevance. "La, la, we were young once!"

Her eyes were lost again in the pinkish glow spreading over the
grey-brown sand of the desert, over the palm-covered island near. "And
now it's others' turn, or ought to be," she murmured.

She looked to where, not far away, Hylda stood leaning over the railing
of the dahabieh, her eyes fixed in reverie on the farthest horizon line
of the unpeopled, untravelled plain of sand.

"No, poor thing, it's not her turn," she added, as Hylda, with a long
sigh, turned and went below. Tears gathered in her pale blue eyes. "Not
yet--with Eglington alive. And perhaps it would be best if the other
never came back. I could have made the world better worth living in if I
had had the chance--and I wouldn't have been a duchess! La! La!"

She relapsed into reverie, an uncommon experience for her; and her
mind floated indefinitely from one thing to another, while she was half
conscious of the smell of coffee permeating the air, and of the low
resonant notes of the Nubian boys, as, with locked shoulders, they
scrubbed the decks of a dahabieh near by with hempshod feet.

Presently, however, she was conscious of another sound--the soft clip
of oars, joined to the guttural, explosive song of native rowers; and,
leaning over the rail, she saw a boat draw alongside the Nefert. From
it came the figure of Nahoum Pasha, who stepped briskly on deck, in his
handsome face a light which flashed an instant meaning to her.

"I know--I know! Claridge Pasha--you have heard?" she said excitedly, as
he came to her.

He smiled and nodded. "A messenger has arrived. Within a few hours he
should be here."

"Then it was all false that he was wounded--ah, that horrible story of
his death!"

"Bismillah, it was not all false! The night before the great battle he
was slightly wounded in the side. He neglected it, and fever came on;
but he survived. His first messengers to us were killed, and that is
why the news of the relief came so late. But all is well at last. I have
come to say so to Lady Eglington--even before I went to the Effendina."
He made a gesture towards a huge and gaily-caparisoned dahabieh not far
away. "Kaid was right about coming here. His health is better. He never
doubted Claridge Pasha's return; it was une idee fixe. He believes a
magic hand protects the Saadat, and that, adhering to him, he himself
will carry high the flower of good