t of
sight. She walked so easily it seemed as if her dainty little feet had
wings, as Hermes' of old, to ease the ground of their feather weight. A
broad belt hung across her shoulder with little rows of cartridges set
all along, and at the end hung a very business-like revolver case of
brown leather and of goodly length. No toy miniature pistol would she
carry, but a full-sized, heavy "six-shooter," that might really be of
use at close quarters. She stood some minutes talking with Mr. Ghyrkins,
not noticing us in the shadow of the tent some thirty yards away; Isaacs
and I watched her intently--with very different feelings, possibly, but
yet intensely admiring the fair creature, so strong and pliant, and yet
so erect and straight. She turned half round towards us, and I saw there
were flowers in the front of her dress. I wondered where they had come
from; they were roses--of all flowers in the world to be blooming in the
desert. Perhaps she had brought them carefully from Fyzabad, but that
was improbable; or from Pegnugger--yes, there would be roses in the
collector's garden there. Isaacs rose to his feet.

"Oh, come along, Griggs. You have had quite enough tea!"

"Go ahead; I will be with you in a moment." But a sudden thought struck
me, and I went with him, bareheaded, to greet Miss Westonhaugh. She
smiled brightly as she held out her hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Isaacs. Thank you so much for the roses. How _did_
you do it? They are _too_ lovely!" So it was just as I thought. Isaacs
had probably despatched a man back to Pegnugger in the night.

"Very easy I assure you. I am so glad you like them. They are not very
fresh after all though, I see," he added depreciatingly, as men do when
they give flowers to people they care about. I never heard a man find
fault with flowers he gave out of a sense of duty. It is perhaps that
the woman best loved of all things in the world has for him a sweetness
and a beauty that kills the coarser hues of the rose, and outvies the
fragrance of the double violets.

"Oh no!" she said, emphasising the negative vigorously. "I think they
are perfectly beautiful, but I want you to tell me where you got them."
I began talking to Ghyrkins, who was intent on the arrangement of his
guns which was going on under his eyes, but I heard the answer, though
Isaacs spoke in a low voice.

"You must not say that, Miss Westonhaugh. You yourself are the most
perfect and beautiful thing God ever made." By