se St. George is my patron saint. I was born on his day, and one of
my names is Georgette, in honour of him, and of my father, who is
Georges: Colonel Georges DeLisle. My French aunts call me Georgette, for
him. My Irish aunts call me 'Sanda,' for my mother, who was Corisande,
and I like being 'Sanda' best."

She was frank about herself, as if to reward Max for his St. George-like
vigil, telling him details of her life in Ireland and France, and how it
had come about that Richard Stanton, her father's friend, had informally
acted as her guardian when she was a child. Somehow, finding her so
simple and outspoken, so kindly interested in him, Max could not bear,
on his part, to build up a wall of reserve. He gave the name that had
always been his: and though he did not tell her the whole story of his
quest, he said that he was in search of a person to whom, if found, all
that had been his would belong. "But you needn't pity me," he added
quickly. "I'm used to the idea now. I shall lose some things by being
poor, but I shall gain others."

She gave him a long look, seeing that he wanted no sympathy in words,
and that it would jar on him if she tried to offer it. "Yes, you'll gain
others," she echoed. "It must be splendid to be a man. I wonder--if
things go as you think--will you stay and seek your fortune in Algeria?"

Seek his fortune in Algeria! Max could not answer for a second or two.
Again he seemed to hear Grant Reeves's rather affected voice speaking
far off as if in a gramophone: "Perhaps you won't want to come back to
America."

When Grant had said that, Max had resolved almost fiercely that nothing
on earth should keep him from going back as quickly as possible. If
Grant or Edwin Reeves had calmly advised his seeking a new fortune in
remote Algeria, he would have flung away the proposition with passion;
but when Sanda DeLisle quietly made the suggestion, it was different.
America lay behind him in the far distance, where the sun sets. His face
was turned to the east, and Algeria was near. The girl whom he had been
able to help and protect was near, also. And she would be in Algeria. If
he hurried home to America he would never see her again. Not that that
ought to matter much! They were ships passing each other in the night.
Yet--they had exchanged signals. Max had a queer feeling that they
belonged to each other, and that, if it were not for her, he would be
hideously, desperately homesick at this moment, alm