'But it's seen at its best a little later—in the winter, I believe.'
'We shall be in Egypt then,' she mentioned. He could have sworn she would say those very words.
'Egypt,' he repeated slowly. 'Yes—in Egypt.'
And a little shiver came over him, so slight, so quickly gone again, that he hoped it was imperceptible. Yet she had noticed it.
'Why, Tom, don't you like the idea?'
'I wonder—' he began, then changed the sentence—'I wonder what it will be like. I have a curious desire to see it—I know that.'
He heard her laugh under her breath a little. What came over them both in that moment he couldn't say. There was a sense of tumult in him somewhere, a hint of pain, of menace too. Her laughter, slight as it was, jarred upon him. She was not feeling quite what he felt—this flashed, then vanished.
'You don't sound enthusiastic,' she said calmly.
'I am, though. Only—I had a feeling——' He broke off. The truth was he couldn't describe that feeling even to himself.
'Tom, dear, my dear one—' she began, then stopped. She also stopped an impulsive movement towards him. She drew back her sentence and her arms. And Tom, aware of a rising passion in him he might be unable to control, turned his face away a moment. Something clutched at his heart as with cruel pincers. A chill followed close upon the shiver. He felt a moment of keen shame, yet knew not exactly why he felt it.