y."

The handle creaked, as he let it go, but for a moment there was no sound
of retreating footsteps.

"Look here, Ruby, if--"

"Go down! I'll come directly."

Footsteps went towards the stairs.

"Get me into my gown! Wait--change my stockings first."

Marie knelt down quickly on the floor. As she bent her head, she was
smiling.

She began to understand.

XIV

When Mrs. Armine came into the little drawing-room, it was empty, but
she smelt cigars, and heard the murmur of voices outside near the
terrace. The men were evidently walking up and down enjoying the soft
air of the evening. She did not go out immediately, but stood and
listened to the voices.

Ah, they were talking about the Fayyum--doubtless discussing some
question of sowing, planting, of the cultivation of land!

This evening her face seemed to retain in its skin an effect of her
outburst of passion, a sensation of dryness and harshness, as if it were
unduly stretched over the flesh and had lost its normal elasticity. Just
before she came out of her bedroom, Marie, with a sort of reluctant
admiration, had exclaimed, "_Madame est exquise ce soir!_" She wondered
if it were true, and as the voices without grew softer for a moment,
more distant, she went to stand again before a mirror, and to ask
herself that question.

She had chosen to put on a walking-dress instead of a tea-gown, because
she believed that in it she would look younger, her splendid figure
being still one of her greatest advantages. Yes, her figure was superb,
and this gown showed it off superbly. The long quiet of her very dull
life in London while she had known Nigel, followed by her comparative
repose in the splendid climate of Egypt, had done wonders for her
appearance. Certainly to-night, despite any ravages made by her
injudicious yielding to anger, she looked years younger than she had
looked in Isaacson's consulting-room. The wrinkles about her eyes showed
scarcely at all, or--not at all. And she was marvellously fair.

Orientals delight in fairness, and always suppose Occidentals to be
years younger than they really are, if they have succeeded in retaining
any of the charms of youth.

Marie was not far wrong.

She turned to step out upon the terrace.

"Ah, Mahmoud Baroudi!" she said, with a sort of lazy but charming
indifference, as the two men came to meet her. "So you have come up the
river to look after--what is it? your something--your sugar?"

"My s