"What has she done for you?"
"She has brought me to you again—to make me know that what you were by
Skaw Fell all those years ago, you are now, and a thousand times more."
She parried the dangerous meaning in his voice, refused to see the tenderness in his manner.
"I'm very sorry to hear that," she added in a tone vainly trying to be unconcerned. "It is a pity that our youth pursues us in forms so little desirable. . . . Who are they?" she added quickly, nodding towards the shore, from which Dicky was coming with an Egyptian officer and a squad of soldiers.
"H'm," he responded laughing, "it looks like a matter of consequence. A
Pasha, I should think, to travel with an escort like that."
"They're coming here," she added, and, calling to her servant, ordered coffee.
Suddenly Kingsley got to his feet, with a cry of consternation; but sat down again smiling with a shrug of the shoulders.
"What is it?" she asked, with something like anxiety, for she had seen the fleeting suspicion in his look.
"I don't know," he answered lightly, and as though the suspicion had gone. He watched Dicky and his companions closely, however, though he chatted unconcernedly while they stood in apparent debate, and presently came on. Dicky was whistling softly, but with an air of perplexity, and he walked with a precision of step which told Kingsley of difficulty ahead. He had not long to wait, and as Dicky drew nearer and looked him in the eyes, he came to his feet again, his long body gathering itself slowly up, as though for deliberate action. He felt trouble in the air, matters of moment, danger for himself, though of precisely what sort was not clear. He took a step forward, as though to shield the lady from possible affront.
"I fancy they want to see me," he said. He recognised the officer—
Foulik Pasha of the Khedive's household.