our of ordinary English
people."

"What was the desert made for, but freedom, my dear? If one can't live
in this valley as one wants to, where can one, I should like to know?"

"We are living as we like," Meg said. "Your ideas of freedom may not
be mine. Our interests lie apart--our ideas of enjoyment are, as far
as I can understand, poles apart."

"A foolish waste of time, my dear, that's all I can say. May I smoke?"

Michael handed her a box of cigarettes; he noticed the exquisite
refinement of her hands as she picked out a cigarette, her
brightly-polished nails. "Thanks, dear," she said, as she lit the
cigarette from the match which he held out to her--the "dear" was for
Meg's benefit; for as their eyes met hers were full of genuine fun and
mischief.

"I must tease her," she said, in a low whisper; Meg had gone to the end
of the room. "I love shocking those dark eyes--I enjoy making her hate
me. It's only fun."

Meg's heart was beating. How dared she call Michael "dear"? How dared
she intrude herself uninvited upon their simple life? Her beauty, her
foolish feminine clothes, angered her. She hated Millicent's fine
skin, which was, even in the desert heat, as poreless as a baby's. It
was a wonderful skin for a grown person, let alone for a woman of
Millicent Mervill's age. Meg thought of the dried mummy's lips. One
day that pure soft flesh, which held the tints of a field daisy, would
be more revolting to look at if it were unearthed than the skin of the
three-thousand-year-old queen. If Meg had possessed a wishing-ring, it
would not have taken long to effect the inevitable change.

The impudence of the woman maddened her. She knew that she could not,
even if she had wished to, behave as she did. Millicent did exactly as
she liked, as the impulse of the minute suggested.

Meg wondered how she had passed the time while they were at the tomb.
Had she examined any private object in the hut? Had she interviewed
the servants? She was quite capable of doing it.

She heard her whisper to Mike. Her own sensitiveness now drove her out
of the hut; if they wished to speak in whispers, let them speak. She
stood sullenly outside the door.

Why did not some strong man strangle women like Millicent Mervill? Why
had not she herself the courage to tell her what she thought of her?
Probably Millicent would only smile and show her perfect teeth--they
always made Meg furious, because they were even bette