hap of my own colour, a friend of both sides, a gentleman and a soldier
like you, to talk it out with. You'd like to help, wouldn't you, for the
father's sake if not the daughter's?"

"Yes," said Max, after a hair's breadth of hesitation. He was so taken
aback by Stanton's attitude that he feared the other man might be
drawing him out in some subtle way detrimental to Sanda.

"I was sure you would. Well! I'm going to tell you the facts.

"You're a man of the world, I expect, or you wouldn't have found your
way into the Legion. Before I had any idea of marriage I thought of
carrying along a--companion, only an Arab dancing-girl, but I'd take my
oath there hasn't been a more fascinating creature since Cleopatra. A
gorgeous woman! No man on earth--not if he were an emperor or king--but
would lose his head over her, if she tried to make him. No treachery to
Sanda in the plan. The child didn't enter into my calculations then. It
struck me, after I'd asked you to see to my tent, you might spot
something--from that mirror."

"I did," Max admitted.

"Oh, well, anyhow, to make a long story short, the girl flew into one of
those black rages of the petted dancer men have made a damned fuss over,
and she disappeared. Lucky for Sanda! If Ahmara'd been with me I'd have
had to see Mademoiselle wend her way to Touggourt with you. But as it
was, in all good faith, I let myself go--one of my impulses that carry
me along. I attribute most of my success in life to impulses;
inspirations I call them. I honestly thought this was one, and that it
would make for my happiness. But by jove, St. George, when I took Sanda
into my tent an hour ago if there wasn't Ahmara waiting for me!"

He stopped an instant, as if expecting Max to speak, but when only dull
silence answered he hurried on.

"She hadn't got the news of my marriage. She wanted to give me a
pleasant surprise by forgiving me, and coming out here secretly, ahead
of the caravan, to hide in my tent. Her arms were round my neck before I
knew what was up--and the smell of '_ambre_' that's always in that long
hair of hers--God, what hair!--was in my nose. Unfortunately Sanda had
been picking up Arabic; so she understood some things Ahmara blurted out
before I could stop her. She got on to the fact that there'd been a
row--a sort of lover's quarrel--and if it hadn't been for a
misunderstanding, Ahmara would have started out with me in her
place--_practically_ in her place. No need to t