"I'm after something better than sea-birds' nests now," said I. "The question is, whether it's not still more inaccessible?"
"Are you talking about—Monny?" she wanted to know, in a whisper.
"Sit down and I'll tell you," was my answer.
"Oh, not here at the top of the steps, if it's anything as private as that," Biddy objected, all excitement in an instant. "Let's come into a tiny room off the stairway, which the guardian showed me a few minutes ago. There's a bench in it. You see, he's up there on the pylon roof now with Monny and Captain Fenton (I can't call him Antoun when I talk to you; its too silly!) and he'll probably be coming down in a minute. Then, if we stop where we are, we'll have to jump up and get out of the way, to let him pass. And he's sure to linger and work off his English on us. I don't think we'll want to be interrupted that way, do you?"
"No, nor any other way," I agreed.
"Oh, but what about the sunset? We may miss it."
"Hang the sunset! Let it slide—down behind the Dam if it likes!"
"I don't wonder you feel so, you poor dear," Biddy sympathized, "when it's a question of Monny, and all our hopes going to pieces the way they are doing, every minute. There isn't a second to lose."
So we went into the little room in the tower, which was lit only by a small square opening over our heads. We sat down on the bench. It was beautifully dark. I began to talk to Biddy. We had forgotten my feet; and I forgot Mrs. East. But I must tell what was happening to her at the time (as I learned afterward, through the confession of an impenitent), before I begin to tell what happened to us. Otherwise the situation which developed can't be made clear.
I left Cleopatra calling spirits from the vasty deep, or rather one spirit; the spirit of Antony. I am morally sure that any other would have been de trop. And sailing to her across the wide water from Shellal came Marcus Antonius Lark.