Somebody had said “The good die young,” but Daniel had not heard the earlier part of the conversation; and Muriel replied, “Yes, dullness is the most deadly thing on earth, and the most contagious.”
He did not wait to hear more: he turned his back on her and walked away, his heart heavy within him. He was utterly out of tune with her.
That evening she was to dine with the Bindanes at Mena House and to spend the night with them, so as to be ready for an early start next morning upon an all-day excursion into the desert. It was to be a large and elegant picnic; and Daniel had been glad to be able to make his work an excuse for not joining the party.
Soon after dark, therefore, he found himself driving out to the Pyramids with Muriel and her maid; and on reaching the hotel he asked her to come into the garden for the half-hour before the first gong would ring.
“Oh, it’s so dark out there,” she replied. “I want to have a talk to you, too. Couldn’t we find a corner in the lounge?”
“No,” he said, “it’s stuffy inside.”
He took her arm, and led her towards the dense group of trees which surrounded the tennis court. She did not resist. This state of veiled hostility was intolerable, and she welcomed the thought of a pitched battle with him.
The night was moonless; and the hot south wind which had been blowing during the day had dropped, leaving the upper air so filled with a hazy dust that the stars were dim. The darkness, when they had passed out of the range of the hotel lights, was intense; and it was with difficulty that they found their way to a bench upon the lawn, under the blackness of the overhanging foliage.
Here they seated themselves in silence; and, though they were close to one another, each could feel, rather than see, the presence of the other. The distant clanging of the tram-car bells, and an occasional grumble of an automobile, reminded them that civilization was not far removed; but here in the obscurity all was hushed, and there was a sense of detachment from the busy ways of mankind which was accentuated by the ominous hooting of an owl and by the gentle rustle of the trees, as the leaves were stirred by the dying wind.
“Well?” said Muriel.