for the visions. Her imagination had unconsciously
pictured them.

And yet there was a sound argument against this common-sense, practical
view of the thing, for she had visualized almost exactly the type and
individuality of a character in history of whom she was totally
ignorant. Even in the modern hotel, in her everyday surroundings, she
could see with extraordinary clearness the rays of light which had
surrounded that head. Nothing could ever obliterate the picture of the
suffering Pharaoh from her memory.

She had left the breakfast-room, and as she waited for the lift to
descend, she was almost afraid that it would bring Millicent down with
it from the floor above. But it did not. There was a grain of
disappointment in the elements which made up Margaret's feelings as she
saw that it was empty. The Lampton combative instinct demanded a fight
to the finish, and an open, broad-daylight attack.

CHAPTER XVII

Margaret kept her promise to Freddy. During the three days which she
spent with the Iretons nothing transpired to make it possible for her
to break it. No word, either by letter or by native word of mouth, had
arrived from Michael.

Even to Hadassah's generous mind, Michael Amory's conduct seemed
strange and inexplicable. His silence, in a manner, condemned him as
casual, even if he was not guilty. She began to wonder if he had been
carried off his feet by Millicent, if he had been weak and forgetful of
Margaret for a little time. Millicent would certainly have done her
best to deprive him of his higher instincts and ideals. If he had been
faithless to Margaret, he was the type of man who would exaggerate the
sin.

When she reviewed the situation calmly, she found that there was much
to be said from Freddy Lampton's standpoint, and Margaret herself was
growing more and more wounded by her lover's conduct--not so much by
the fact that Millicent had been in the desert with him, for she knew
the woman's persistence, but by the lack of effort which he had made to
explain the situation to her. Even if he had allowed himself to be
carried away by Millicent's wiles, she would have forgiven him, for
Margaret was very human, and she was no fool. Never had she imagined
that her lover was a saint. What she felt it harder and harder every
day to forgive was his silence, his want of courage, his lack of trust.

During those three days Margaret's beautiful world and life seemed to
have crumbled i