acson.

Although he spoke almost under his breath, he managed to introduce into
his voice the quiet sound of a man of the world very much at his ease,
and with a pleasant half-hour before him. "I saw him praying this
afternoon."

"Praying?"

"Yes, when he brought your note."

A look of horror crept over her face, and was gone in an instant.

"Oh, all these people pray."

She sat more forward on the divan, almost like one about to get up.
Isaacson crossed one leg over the other.

"What you told me this morning did make me uneasy about your husband,"
he said, leaving the Mohammedan world abruptly.

"Then I must have spoken very carelessly," she said, quickly.

All the time they were talking, she made perpetual slight movements, and
was never perfectly still.

"Then you are not at all uneasy about his condition?"

"I--I didn't say that. Naturally, a wife is a little anxious if her
husband has been ill. But he is so much better than he was that it would
be foolish of me to be upset."

"I confess this morning you roused my professional anxiety."

"I really don't see why."

"Well, you know, we doctors become very alert about signs and symptoms.
And you let drop one or two words which made me fear that possibly your
husband might be worse than you supposed."

"Doctor Baring Hartley is in charge of the case."

"Well, but he isn't here!"

"He's coming here to-morrow."

"I understood he was waiting for you at Assouan. You'll forgive me for
venturing to intrude into this affair, but as an old friend of your
husband--"

"Doctor Hartley is at Assouan, but he will come down to-morrow to see
his patient. You don't seem to realize that Assouan is close by, just
round the corner."

"I know it is only a hundred and ten kilometres away."

"In a steam launch or by train that's absolutely nothing. He'll be here
to-morrow."

"Then your husband feels worse?"

"Not at all."

"But if you've sent for Doctor Hartley?"

"I've only done that because instead of going up at once to Assouan, as
we had intended, we've decided to remain here for the present. Nigel
enjoys the quiet, and I dare say it's better for him. You forget he's
just lost his only brother."

"You mean that I am wanting in delicacy in thrusting myself into your
mutual grief?"

He spoke very simply, very quietly, but there was a note in his voice of
inflexible determination.

"I don't wish to say that," she answered.

And her voice was harder t