e ... and strange comparisons. In silence she
looked down into the shadowy temple courts where absurdly
small-looking people were strolling to and fro, while Falconer stood
looking down at her, with something akin to angry wonder in his
adoring eyes.

"Why didn't you write to a chap?" he abruptly demanded.

"Why should I?"

"Then you meant to let it go at that?" He drew a sharp breath. "Just
the way you flared off from that table--not a word more?"

"Why didn't you write?" the girl parried.

"I did," indignantly. "Twice--to Alexandria."

"Oh.... I didn't get them."

"I wrote, all right. I was so stirred up over that alarm of Hill's
that I urged you to answer me at once. And when you didn't, and when
I heard you _had_ written the Evershams, well, I thought I knew what
I had to think.... When I met you here Friday I half expected you to
cut me, upon my word!"

"But I didn't!" She laughed softly. "I remembered you--perfectly."

"Oh, you did, did you?... You've acted as if that was about all you
did remember."

"I've been very, _very_ nice to you!"

"But with a difference," he insisted resentfully. "Didn't you know I
must have written? You didn't think I wanted to let it stop there,
did you? You didn't think I meant that nonsense at tea----"

"Please don't go back to that," said the girl hurriedly. "We've been
good friends these three days without bringing it up--don't let us
do it now."

"Well, I don't enjoy thinking about it." His voice was sharp with
feeling. "You gave me the most miserable time of my life."

"I was very horrid."

"You told me you didn't give a _piastre_ for what I thought!"

"I said I didn't give half a _piastre_!" murmured Arlee
irrepressibly, with a wicked dimple.

Reluctantly he grinned. "Well?" he put to her questioningly.

"Well?"

Their eyes met, sparkling, combative.

"You do, don't you?"

"What?"

"You do give a _piastre_ for what I----"

"I'm afraid I do. I'm afraid I give a good many _piastres_ for what
everyone thinks." The girl's smile had suddenly faded; her eyes
lowered and sought the far horizons.

In the silence he came a little closer to her. "Then Arlee--Arlee,
dear----"

She started, and turned hurriedly. "We must go down----"

"Why must we?"

"They'll be waiting."

"Let 'em. They'll be glad of the chance if they can get away from
Emma.... I want to talk to you."

"I think Mr. Hill is quite as nice as Lady Claire," flashed Arlee in
a childish