"I'll take you on to the roof," Saidee said. "It's my favourite place—looking over the desert."
She put her arm round Victoria, leading her to the stairway, and so to the roof.
"Are you better?" she asked, miserably. "What can I do for you?"
"Let's not speak for a little while, please. I can think now. Soon I shall be well. Don't be anxious about me, darling."
Very gently she slipped away from Saidee's arm that clasped her waist; and the softness of the young voice, which had been sharp with pain, touched the elder woman. She knew that the girl was thinking more of her, Saidee, than of herself.
Victoria leaned on the white parapet, and looked down over the desert, where the sand rippled in silvery lines and waves, like water in moonlight.
"The golden silence!" she thought.
It was silver now, not golden; but she knew that this was the place of her dream. On a white roof like this, she had seen Saidee stand with eyes shaded from the sun in the west; waiting for her, calling for her, or so she had believed. Poor Saidee! Poor, beautiful Saidee; changed in soul, though so little changed in face! Could it be that she had never called in spirit to her sister?
Victoria bowed her head, and tears fell from her eyes upon her cold bare arms, crossed on the white wall.
Saidee did not want her. Saidee was sorry that she had come. Her coming had only made things worse.