closely round her, and hurried to the bank
of the Nile.

"Ibrahim! Ibrahim!"

"My lady!"

He came, striding up the bank.

"Take my hand! Help me! Quickly!"

She almost threw herself down the bank.

"Where is the boat--ah!"

She stumbled as she got into it, and nearly fell.

"Push off!"

She sat straight up on the hard, narrow bench, and stared at the lights
on the _Loulia_.

"There's a girl on board," she said, in a minute.

"Yes, my lady, one girl. Whether Mahmoud Baroudi likin' we comin' I
dunno."

"Ibrahim!"

"My lady!"

"Directly I go on board the _Loulia_, you are to go. Take the boat
straight back to Luxor."

"I leavin' you?"

He looked relieved.

"Yes. I'll--I'll come back in Baroudi's felucca."

"I quite well stayin', waitin' till you ready."

"No, no. I don't wish that. Promise me you will take the boat away at
once."

"All what you want you must have," he murmured.

"How loudly the sailors are singing!" she said.

Now they were drawing near to the _Loulia_. Mrs. Armine, with fierce
eyes, gazed at the lighted cabin windows, at the upper deck, at the
balcony in the stern where so often she had sat with Nigel. She was on
fire with eagerness; she was the prey of an excitement that made her
forget all her bodily fatigue, forget everything except that at last
she was close to Baroudi. Already her husband had ceased to exist for
her. He was gone for ever with the past. Not only the river but a great
gulf, never to be bridged, divided them.

"Baroudi! Baroudi! Baroudi!"

She could belong to Baroudi openly at last. In this moment she even
forgot herself, forgot to think of her appearance. Within her there was
a woman who could genuinely feel. And that woman asserted herself now.

The boat touched the _Loulia's_ side. A Nubian appeared. The singing on
board abruptly ceased. Mrs. Armine quickly stood up in the boat.

"Go to Luxor, Ibrahim! Go at once!"

"I goin' quick, my lady."

She sprang on board and stood to see him go. Only when the boat had
diminished upon the dark water did she turn round. She was face to face
with Hamza.

"Hamza!" she said, startled.

His almond-shaped eyes regarded her, and she thought a menace was in
them. Even in the midst of her fiery excitement she felt a touch of
something that was cold as fear is cold.

"Yes," he said.

"I must see Mahmoud Baroudi."

He did not move. His expression did not change. The Nubians, squatting
in a circle on the de