ally. But,
oh, sometimes I feel as if this suppressed impatience were making me
ill, physically and mentally, as if it were a kind of poison stealing
all through me! Can you understand?"

"Can I? You bet! I only wish the thing could be ready before Crayford
goes back to the States."

"When does he go?"

"Some time in September, I believe. He goes on the Continent after July.
Of course, July he's in London, June too. Then he has his cure at
Divonne. If only---- When do you come to London?"

Charmian suddenly grasped his arm.

"Alston, I'll keep him here, give up London, anything to have the opera
finished by the end of August!"

"Well, but the heat!"

"I don't believe it's too hot upon the hill where we are, with all those
trees. Every afternoon I expect there's a breeze from the sea. I know we
could stand it. It's only April now. That would mean four solid months
of steady work. But then?"

"I'd bring Crayford over."

"Would he come?"

"I'd make him."

"But we might--"

"No, Mrs. Charmian. He ought to hear it in Mustapha. I know him. He's a
hard business man. But he's awfully susceptible too. And then he's great
on scenic effects. Now, he's never been in Africa. Think of the glamour
of it, especially in summer, when the real Africa emerges, by Gee, in
all its blue and fire! We'd plunge him in it, you and I. That Casbah
scene--you know, the third act! I'd take him there by moonlight on a
September night--full moon--show him the women on their terraces and in
their courts, the town dropping down to the silver below, while the
native music--by Gee! We'd dazzle him, we'd spread the magic carpet for
him, we'd carry him away till he couldn't say no, till he'd be as mad on
the thing as we are!"

"Oh, Alston, if we could!"

She had caught all his enthusiasm. It seemed to her that in North Africa
Mr. Crayford could not refuse the opera. From that moment she had made
up her mind. No London season! Whatever happened, she and Claude were
going to remain at Djenan-el-Maqui till the opera was finished, finished
to the last detail. That very evening she spoke about it to Claude.

"Claudie," she said. "Are you very keen on going to London this year?"

He looked at her as if almost startled.

"I? But, surely--do you mean that you don't want to go?"

She moved her head.

"Not one little bit."

"Well, but then where do you wish to go?"

"Where? Why should we go anywhere?"

"Stay here?"

"I've come to love