ent.
I pretended that I had heard from Michael."

"You led me to suppose that he had discovered it."

"I know," Margaret said. "I didn't wish to add to your satisfaction by
telling you of his disappointment. I was convinced that you knew, and
that you had slipped off to the hills." She paused. "We were bluffing
each other."

"I was incubating smallpox. I was wearing a blouse and skirt which had
been packed with the clothes I wore in the desert. Probably it had
come in touch with some infected thing."

"Were you very bad?" Margaret said. "Where have you been all this
time?"

Millicent shivered. "I was just going to sail for England, but I was
too ill when I reached Alexandria to go on board the boat--I had to
stay behind. I have been hiding myself from the world ever since.
Yes, I was dreadfully ill, and now. . . ." Her voice broke. "You
don't know what I feel when I look at myself--my own face makes me
sick."

"I am so sorry," Margaret said. "You were so beautiful, such a
wonderful colour!"

"How kind of you to say so!" Millicent's voice left no doubt of her
feeling of shame, although Margaret's nobility was beyond her
understanding; it humbled her. "I came to you because I wanted to do
what I can to undo what I have done. If Michael had known that my
servant anticipated his discovery, it might have given him a clue as to
where the treasure has gone. You do believe now that I never saw the
jewels? I never dreamed of robbing him!" She paused. "In my poor way
I loved him. I couldn't have done that--not that."

"And yet you were so horribly cruel! You knew a great deal about men.
Michael is only human, and he is so ready to believe the best of
everyone."

"Yes, I know. But I suppose I was born bad, born with feelings you
don't understand. Michael did his best to help me; he tried to awaken
something higher in me. I suppose you won't believe it, but he has--he
has helped me; I am not quite what I was. While I was ill, when I
thought I was dying, all that he had ever said to me came back to me
with a new meaning. I determined that if I got well I would tell you
everything--how wonderful his love for you is, how strong he can
be--and it is not the strength of a man who does not feel."

"Oh, I know it," Margaret said. Her voice was resentful.

"But please let me tell you, even if you do know it. It is only right
to Michael--I must exonerate him, even if you resent hearing me speak
of