that he had been very, very sick for some days
before we met him. But malaria might have accounted for the
sickness--and the headaches. No one could have diagnosed it until the
spots appeared. Abdul's not to blame."

"What are you going to do?" Millicent said. "Stick to him? I suppose
you will!" she shivered.

"I will isolate his tent. I can't go on and leave him here, if you
mean that."

"Oh, you're crazy! Think of Margaret, if you won't think of yourself!"

"She wouldn't have me do it."

"Leave one or two of the men behind with him. It's absurd, running
such a risk. He will probably die, in any case."

"When I needed his help I meant to stick to him. When he now needs
mine, am I to desert him? You said my goodness was not disinterested.
It was not, but I can't stoop to that."

"If these Moslems really think he's a saint, they'll nurse him
faithfully. I'll pay them what they ask--anything."

"Money isn't everything, Millicent--surely you know that?"

"It can do a great deal. If you hadn't met him, he'd have died."

"But I have met him. Doesn't that show that I am entrusted with his
welfare?"

"A chance meeting."

"That absurd word! By chance you mean such a big thing that your mind
can't imagine it! You choose to call a link in the Divine Chain
chance! the Chance which gives life, the Master of that which is
ordained, you mean!"

"You can't nurse him, you can't do anything more for him than see that
he has all that he wants. 'The faithful' will carry out your
instructions. Do be practical, reasonable."

"It's no use, Millicent, I can't leave him. I won't." Michael
shivered. "It's chilly. Let's go and eat our dinner."

"You must change first--I insist. It's only right to others."

"Then don't wait for me."

"Oh yes, I will. Only be quick." Millicent knew that she was too sick
with fear to eat and enjoy the excellent dinner which had been prepared
for them. As she waited for Michael, she cursed her own folly, her own
abominable bad luck. If Michael was a carrier, she had no chance,
unless she was one of those rare people who are immune from the
disease. She did not think she was, because when she was last
vaccinated, when she was fifteen, she had been very, very ill and sick.
She felt physically tired, for her brain was quick. It was imagining
horrible things. She was visualizing her own beauty spoilt, her fair
skin deeply pitted with pock-marks, her colour all gone.