arm inside hers.

"It's a tremendous change for you, but is it a happy change?" he asked.

"It's wonderful here," she answered; "but it's so strange that I shall
have to get accustomed to it."

As she spoke, she was longing, till her soul seemed to ache, to take the
early morning train to Cairo. Accustomed for years to have all her
caprices obeyed, all her whims indulged by men, she did not know how she
was going to endure this situation, which a passionate love alone could
have made tolerable. And the man by her side had that passionate love
which made the dreary Fayyum his Heaven. She could almost have struck
him because he was so happy.

"There's one thing I must say I should love to do before we go away from
Egypt," she said, slowly.

She seemed to be led or even forced to say it.

"What's that?"

"I should love to go up the Nile on a dahabeeyah."

"Then you shall. When we leave here and pass through Cairo, I'll pick
out a boat, and we'll send it up to Luxor, go on board there, and then
sail for Assouan. But you mustn't think we shall get a _Loulia_."

He laughed.

"Millionaires like Baroudi don't hire out their boats," he added. "And
if they did, I couldn't pay their price while Etchingham's so badly
let."

Her forehead was wrinkled by a frown. She hated to hear a man who loved
her speak of his poverty. It had become a habit of her mind to think
that no man had a right to love her unless he could give her exactly
what she wanted.

"Shall we go out, Ruby?"

"Very well."

They stepped out on to the waste ground. His hand was still on her arm,
and he led her down to the stream. The young moon was already setting.
The starry sky was flecked here and there with gossamer veils of cloud.
A heavy dew was falling upon the dense growths of the oasis, and in the
distance of the palm-grove, where gleamed the lamp from the tent of the
German lady and the young Arab, a faint and pearly mist was rising.
Nigel drew in his breath, then let it out. It went in vapour from his
lips.

"We've left the dryness of Upper Egypt," he said. "This is the country
of fertility, the country where things grow. The dews at night are
splendid. But wait a moment. I'll get you a cloak. I'm your maid,
remember."

He fetched a cloak and wrapped it round her.

"I suppose the _Loulia_ is far up the river," he said. "Perhaps at
Assouan. I wonder if we shall see Baroudi some day again. I think he's a
good sort of fellow; but after al