"Do you know him?"
"I've been praying and longing for him to find me, and save us. He's an Englishman. His name is Stephen Knight. He promised to come if I called, and I have. Oh, how I've called, day and night, night and day!"
"You never told me."
"I waited. Somehow I—couldn't speak of him, even to you."
"I've told you everything."
"But I had nothing to tell, really—nothing I could have put into words. And you might only have laughed if I'd said 'There's a man I know in Algiers who hasn't any idea where I am, but I think he'll come here, and take us both away.'"
"Are you engaged to each other?" Saidee asked, curiously, even enviously.
"Oh no! But—but——"
"But what? Do you mean you will be—if you ever get away from this place?"
"I hope so," the girl answered bravely, with a deep blush. "He has never asked me. We haven't known each other long—a very little while, only since the night I left London for Paris. Yet he's the first man I ever cared about, and I think of him all the time. Perhaps he thinks of me in the same way."