Edmund began to hold aloof again, and some instinct warned me that Welfare was seeking in his clumsy mind for the easiest way of making some difficult proposition.
I began almost unconsciously to arm myself against him. So I was on the alert when he said to me one afternoon with an elaborate attempt to speak unconcernedly, “You’d like to see something of the desert while you’re out here, I suppose?”
“I should have liked to see Egypt, of course,” I replied, pre-warned, “but I can’t now. I shall simply have to send a cable and get the first boat for Marseilles.”
“To be sure. I know you must be getting home. I shall be very sorry when you leave us, sir.”
“Thank you. I shall be quite as sorry to go. It’s been a delightful trip. I feel as if I had been dreaming. But I’ve woken up to reality now, and I must make up my mind to a certain amount of awkwardness after being so long away and sending no word. I must get home and put things straight.”
“That is so. I quite understand. I was thinking you would actually save time, and see a bit of the country into the bargain, if you landed near the western frontier and went on overland to Alexandria.”
“Is that possible?”
“Quite easy. It would be hot in the desert, of course.”
“I don’t think I should mind the heat.”
“It would be about a day and a half’s camel ride from the place I’m thinking of to the railway, and then only a few hours to Alexandria. It would take us longer by sea, even if the wind holds, and it’s falling lighter. We’ll soon only have the morning and evening breeze to count on.”