"Of course he must, Babe, if he's really come to search for you," Saidee said, looking at her young sister affectionately.
"Thank you a hundred times for saying that, dearest! I do hope so!" Victoria exclaimed, hugging the elder woman impulsively, as she used when she was a little child.
But Saidee's joy, caught from her sister's, died down suddenly, like a flame quenched with salt. "What good will it do you—or us—that he is coming?" she asked bitterly. "He can ask for the marabout, and perhaps see him. Any traveller can do that. But he will be no nearer to us, than if we were dead and in our graves. Does Maïeddine know about him?"
"They saw each other on the ship, coming to Algiers—and again just as we landed."
"But has Maïeddine any idea that you care about each other?"
"I had to tell him one day in the desert (the day Si Maïeddine said he loved me, and I promised to consent if you put my hand in his) that—that there was a man I loved. But I didn't say who. Perhaps he suspects, though I don't see why he should. I might have meant some one in America."
"You may be pretty sure he suspects. People of the old, old races, like the Arabs, have the most wonderful intuitions. They seem to know things without being told. I suppose they've kept nearer nature than more civilized peoples."
"If he does suspect, I can't help it."
"No. Only it's still more sure that your Englishman won't be able to do us any good. Not that he could, anyhow."
"But Si Maïeddine's been very ill since he came back, M'Barka says. Mr. Knight will ask for the marabout."