st as a
man may regard a shadow and say to himself, "Is that shadow cast by my
friend?"

A dress rustled. And the tiny noise was followed by the creak of a
basket chair.

"Don't you think you're a little better to-night?" said Mrs. Armine.

The other sighed.

"No."

"Doctor Baring Hartley said you would recover rapidly."

"Ruby, he doesn't understand my case. He can't understand it."

"But he seemed so certain. And he's got a great reputation in America."

"But he doesn't understand. To-night I feel--when you were playing
'Gerontius' I felt that--that I must soon go. 'Proficiscere, anima
Christiana, de hoc mundo'--I felt as if somewhere that was being said to
me."

"Nigel!"

"It's strange that I, who've always loved the sun, should be knocked
over by the sun, isn't it? Strange that what one loves should destroy
one!"

"But--but that's not true, Nigel. You are getting better, although you
don't think so."

"Ruby"--the voice was almost stern, and now it was more like the voice
that Isaacson knew--"Ruby, I'm getting worse. To-day I feel that I'm
going to die."

"Let me telegraph for Doctor Hartley. At dawn to-morrow I shall send the
boat to Edfou--"

"If only Isaacson were here!"

There was a silence. Then Mrs. Armine said:

"What could Doctor Isaacson do more than has been done?"

"He's a wonderful man. He sees what others don't see. I feel that he
might find out what's the matter."

"Find out! But, Nigel, we know it's the sun. You yourself--"

"Yes, yes!"

"To-morrow I'll wire for Doctor Hartley to come down at once from
Assouan."

"It's this awful insomnia that's doing for me. All my life I've slept so
well--till now. And the rheumatic pains; how can the sun--Ruby,
sometimes I think it's nothing to do with the sun."

"But, then, what can it be? You know you would expose yourself, though I
begged and implored--"

"But the heat's nothing new to me. For months in the Fayyum I worked in
the full glare of the sun. And it never hurt me."

"Nigel, it was the sun. One may do a thing ninety-nine times, and the
hundredth time one pays for it."

A chair creaked.

"Do you want to turn, Nigel? Wait, I'll help you."

"Isn't it awful to lose all one's strength like this?"

"It'll come back. Wait! You're slipping. Let me put my arm behind you."

"Yes, give me your hand, dearest!"

After a pause he said:

"Poor Ruby! What a time for you! You never guessed you'd married a
miserable crock, did