two dances with
Falconer.

So much for Friday. Saturday had been worse. Arlee had said on
Friday night that she would join the passengers in the all-day
excursion to the Tombs of the Kings, and Billy had somehow found
himself in an arrangement with Lady Claire and Falconer to go with
them. Then Arlee had not gone. Mrs. Eversham reported that she had a
headache, and Falconer had very promptly dropped out of the party,
leaving Billy with Lady Claire upon his hands, and so he went, and
he and Lady Claire and the Evershams and about sixty other
passengers had a brisk and busy day of it. When he returned just
before dinner he saw Arlee, apparently headacheless, upon the deck
of the steamer, chatting to Falconer.

That night she had attended the dance at the hotel under Miss
Falconer's wing. Billy had danced with her twice, and between times
his pride had kept him aloof--she might just have made one sign! But
though her bright friendliness was ever responsive; though she was
instantly, submissively, ready to accept his invitations or fulfill
his requests, he felt that there was something strangely lacking.

The gay spark of her coquetry was gone; she did not tease or play
with him; animated as she was in company, when they were alone
together a constraint fell upon her.

Miserably he felt that he reminded her of unhappy scenes and that
she would be secretly relieved when he was gone.

So now he was absurdly glad to hear her declare, in answer to Lady
Claire's questionings, "Oh, but the desert is wonderful! I loved it
in spite of----"

"In spite of--?" Lady Claire echoed.

"The sand," said Arlee promptly. But under her lashes, her eyes
came, at last, half-scared, to Billy's face.

"But the sand _is_ the desert," Lady Claire was murmuring.

"It's only part of it," Billy took it upon himself to answer. "Space
is the biggest part--and then color. And sometimes--heat."

"You spent quite a time on the desert edge with some excavators,
didn't you?" said the English girl, and Billy fell into talk with
her about his friend's work, and Falconer and his sister engrossed
Arlee.

And to-night was the very last night of her stay at Luxor. To-morrow
the boat would take her on out of his life--unless he pursued her
along the Nile, a foolish, unwanted intruder.... The three days here
had all slipped from his clumsy grasp--they seemed to have put a
widening distance between them.... He heard Falconer calculating
that the boat w