You have had enough of it already?"

"No, not that; but--I'm tired," she said.

As she spoke, skilfully, without appearing to do so, she led him to look
towards the little group of the Murchisons and the Haymans; led him to
pity her for their observation, and to take that as the cause of her
wish to go. Perhaps it was partly the cause, but not wholly, and not as
she made him believe it.

"Ill take you home at once," Nigel said, tenderly.

When they were outside Baroudi bade them good-bye, and invited them to
tea on the _Loulia_--so his dahabeeyah was called--on the following day.

"In the evening I may start for Armant," he said. "Will it bore you to
come, madame?"

He spoke politely, but rather perfunctorily, and she answered with much
the same tone.

"Thanks, I shall be delighted. Good-night. The music was delicious."

His tall figure went away in the dark.

When he had left them there was a silence. Nigel made a movement as if
he were going to take her hand, and draw her arm within the circle of
his; but he did not do it, and they walked on side by side by the river,
not touching each other, not speaking. And so, presently, they came to
the villa, and to the terrace before the drawing-room. Then Nigel spoke
at last.

"Are--you are going in at once, Ruby?" he said.

"Yes."

"I--will you call from your window presently?"

"Why?"

"When I may come up. After this morning I must talk to you before we
sleep."

She looked at him, then looked down, resting her white chin on the warm
white fur of the ermine.

"I'll call," she said.

As she went away he looked after her, and thought how almost strangely
tall she looked in the long white coat. He paced up and down as he
waited, listening for the sound of her voice. After what seemed to him a
very long time he heard it at last.

"Nigel! You can come up now--if you like."

He went upstairs at once to her room, and found her sitting in an
arm-chair near the window, which led on to the balcony, and which was
wide open to the night. She was in a loose and, to him, a mysterious
white and flowing garment, with sleeves that fell away from her arms
like wings. Her hair was coiled low at the back of her neck.

The room was lit by two candles, which burned upon a small
writing-table, and by the wan and delicate moonlight that seemed to
creep in stealthily, yet obstinately, from the silently-breathing Egypt
in whose warm breast they were. He stood for a moment; t