behind her years, a child at heart who meant no harm. The strangers
whispered among themselves, and speculated as to her relationship with
the man and woman by her side.

The Arab woman shouldered her burden and walked away, enriched by
several voluntary offerings, and the object of interest being removed,
Katrine became embarrassingly conscious of the general scrutiny. She
cast a rapid glance around the group, skimming quickly from one face to
another, until suddenly, startlingly, she found herself held by the gaze
of a pair of eyes, a man's eyes, steely grey, with a curious effect of
lightness against the deep tan of the skin. There was something in
those eyes, a magnetism, an intentness, which gripped Katrine with a
force amounting to positive pain. Each of us in his turn has had such
an experience, but it is all too rare, for the eyes of our
fellow-creatures, so far from being windows of the soul, are as a rule
little more illuminating than any other feature. Tired eyes, shallow
eyes, blank, expressionless eyes, one encounters them at every turn, but
only at rare and memorable intervals eyes alive, magnetic, which not
only look straight from the heart of their owner, but like a searchlight
pierce straight to one's own. When this experience comes, it forges a
link which neither time nor distance can break. Two souls have met, and
mutely acclaimed their kinship.

While one might have counted ten, Katrine stood, motionless, almost
without breath, gazing deep into the strange man's eyes, then with the
wrench of physical effort, she turned aside, and slipped her hand
through Mrs Mannering's arm.

"Come! Let us go!"

They walked on. Vernon Keith on one side, Mrs Mannering on the other,
large, gaunt, protective, her arm gripping the girl's hand to her grey
alpaca side. Katrine loved her for that grip, but her mind was still
engrossed in visualising the figure of a tall man, thin, yet broad, of a
tanned face, and light grey eyes.

The glare from the sand seemed of a sudden to have become monstrous,
unbearable. She felt a tired longing for the cool white deck.

"How soon can we go back? How long will those--sweeps--take over their
work?"

"Not long," Vernon said. "They are incredibly quick. Three hours for a
matter of eight or nine hundred tons. We will go to the hotel and get
something to drink. Has the sun been too much for you? You look so
suddenly tired."

Beneath her breath Mrs Mannering grunt