end of time he
would judge me by the past. He would label me 'woman to beware of' and
my most innocent actions, my most impulsive attempts to show forth my
true and better self he would entirely misinterpret, brilliant man
though he is. Nigel, believe me, we women know!"

"But, then, surely you must dislike Isaacson very much!"

"On the contrary, I like him."

"I can't understand that."

"I don't require of him any of the splendid things that--well, that I do
require of you, because I could never care for him. If he were to play
me false, even if he were to hate me a thousand times more than he does,
it wouldn't upset me, because I could never care for him."

"You think Isaacson hates you!" he exclaimed.

He had forgotten the gold of the sunset, the liquid gold of the river.
He saw only her, thought only of what she was saying, thinking.

"Nigel, tell me the truth. Do you think he likes me?"

He looked down.

"He doesn't know you. If he did--"

"If he did, it would make not a bit of difference."

"I think it would; all the difference."

She smilingly shook her head.

"I should always wear my label, 'woman to beware of.' But what does it
matter? I'm not married to him. If I were, ah, then I should be the most
miserable woman on earth--now!"

He sat down close to her in another beehive chair.

"Ruby, why did you say 'now' like that?"

"Oh," she spoke in a tone of lightness that sounded assumed, "because
now I've lived in an atmosphere not of mistrust. And it's spoilt me
completely."

He felt within him a glow strong and golden as the glow of the sunset.
At last she had forgotten their painful scene in the garden. He had
fought for and had won her soul's forgetfulness.

"I'm glad," he said, with the Englishman's almost blunt simplicity--"I'm
glad. I wish Isaacson knew."

She felt as if she frowned, but not a wrinkle came on her forehead.

"I didn't tell you," he added, "but I wrote to Isaacson the other day."

"Did you?"

Her hands met in her lap, and her fingers clasped.

"Yes, I sent him quite a good letter. I told him we were going up the
Nile in Baroudi's boat, and how splendid you were looking, and how
immensely happy we were. I told him we were going to cut all the
travellers, and just live for our two selves in the quiet places where
there are no steamers and no other dahabeeyahs. And I told him how
magnificently well I was."

"Oh, treating him as the great Doctor, I suppose!"

She