bricks, over
which he placed a brass tripod.

There was a gurgling sound as water ran from a skin into a brass pot
which hung from a hook on the tripod, and in a few minutes the water
began to bubble furiously, as the fire, leaping and falling, cast giant
shadows on the Arab's flowing robes.

Small boxes were opened, and the contents laid on plates: sandwiches,
cakes, sweetmeats, fruit, and wine, red and white, in skins, poured
into empty earthen-ware jugs in which to cool it. Small cups of
Egyptian coffee, a "Cona Machine" for the Western idea of coffee, and a
box of cigarettes.

"If I had known you would be a-hungered, I would have brought the
wherewithal to make a repast of substance!"

"Oh, but it is all so topping!" cried the girl, and then stopped.

The slang words had suddenly struck her as foolish and silly, and out
of place in a country where the syllables of words sound sonorously,
and time passes like a slow moving river with its banks unchoked with
"hustle weeds." And from that day, or rather night, Jill gave up
slang, and one by one all the little dreary habits which rub the bloom
off the Western maid.

[1]To revenge the lash or whip camels have been known even after a
lapse of months to seize their victim, tearing and trampling him to
pieces, and then with infinite relish proceed to roll time and again
upon the remains.

CHAPTER XV

A striking and unrealistic picture the two made as they lay on their
cushions alone in the desert. The girl in her white dress, which in
truth was somewhat crumpled, her white neck rising like a gleaming
pillar from the low-cut blouse, the little curls rippling round the
face which, under the moonlight and the stress of the past hours,
showed white with shadow-encircled eyes, gazing at the man who rose and
knelt with a towel of softest linen, and a basin of brass filled with
water.

Jill happened to be one of those lucky individuals who can with
impunity wash their face anywhere, and at any time of the day, and look
the better for it. Neither had she to fear a futurist impression in
vivid colours of Dorin rouge and blue pencillings mixed with liquid
powder appearing on her face after a sudden rain storm.

So she put her face right into the basin, lifted it sparkling with
laughter and rainbow drops to bury it in the snowy cloth. Her sleeves
she turned back, and ran the water up and down her arms.

"And you must wash your feet, woman, for so small are