Muriel felt somewhat relieved. Even if the feelings of ease in his society which at the moment she was experiencing were to last, she had no particular wish to have him always about the house, nor present at every meal.
“Well, where are you going to live?” she asked.
He glanced around him. They were standing upon a level area of hard sand, in the shadow of a spur of rock which formed the head of a low ridge. The broken surface of the desert was spread out to their gaze to north, east and west; but the rocks shut off the view towards the south. The caravan had strayed considerably from the beaten track; and the sand hereabouts was smooth and unmarked, except by their own footprints and by those of the desert larks which were now singing high overhead.
“Where am I going to live?” he repeated, suddenly coming to a decision, in his impulsive way. “Why right here where we stand. It shall be my home: just where I shook hands with you.”
Muriel glanced at him, wondering whether his words contained any deep significance; but, by his smiling face, she judged that they did not.
He looked about him with interest. “It couldn’t be bettered,” he exclaimed. “It’s a good mile-and-a-half back from the Pyramids, and well out of the way of people. I’ll ride in to Mena House on my camel every morning, and take the tram into Cairo from there.”
Mr. Bindane stared at him open-mouthed.
“Rather far away, isn’t it?” he commented. “A bit lonely at nights.”
Daniel laughed. “I suppose there’s something wrong with me,” he answered. “I’m always happiest alone.”
Kate Bindane picked up her reins. “I think that’s the bird, Benifett, my love,” she remarked, “in fact the screeching peacock.”