"My engagement with Sir Marcus Lark ended when our train stopped at Khartum. I have other business to attend to here. I've just made my adieux with everybody else. I saved you till the last."
Monny was pale. Even the fresh young rose that was her mouth had blanched. Otherwise she controlled herself perfectly. Was this part of Anthony's plan? I wondered. He had told me what he intended to do at the Palace ball to-morrow night; but he had said nothing about this preliminary scene. I understood, however, why he had not manoeuvred to get Monny to himself, in a deserted corner of this big ground-floor balcony of the hotel. Even when with the Set it was a question of getting their tea, or looking at their rooms, eyes were always ready to observe Miss Gilder, especially since it was "in the air" that she really was Miss Gilder—"the Miss Gilder." He did not want Miss Hassett-Bean and Mrs. Harlow to be saying: "Look, my dear, at the tragic, private farewell Antoun Effendi and our American Beauty are having!" Since Philae, there would have been no use in trying to conceal his feelings for Monny from Brigit or me. Therefore we made useful chaperons, and could be regarded as dummies.
"You never told me you were leaving us at Khartum," the girl stammered. "I thought—" But, though we knew what she thought, she could go no further before an audience.
"My business prevents me from staying at the hotel," Anthony explained. "And—though I shall see you, never again will you see poor Ahmed Antoun."
"I don't understand," Monny said.
"I know. But that was what we agreed upon. You promised to trust me without understanding. To-morrow night, at the Sirdar's ball, you will understand. I've arranged with Lord Ernest that you and Mrs. Jones and Mrs. East and he shall write your names in the book at the Palace. Then you will all receive invitations for the ball; you four only, of the party."
"And you will be there?"
"I've just told you," Anthony repeated, "that Antoun is saying good-bye to you forever."
"Yet you told me, too, that after Khartum I should be hap—" She cut herself short, and shut her lips closely. I was angry with Fenton for what seemed cruelty to one who had very nobly confessed her love for him. Biddy's eyes protested, too; but the man and the girl cared no more for us or our criticism, at that moment, than if we had been harmless, necessary chairs for them to sit upon.
"There are many paths to happiness," Fenton answered. "I shall see you to-morrow night, and I shall know whether you are happy. Meanwhile I say again—trust me. And good-bye."