"I saw her last night at the hospital," Al'mah answered. "She was better. She was preparing to go to Durban. I did not ask her if she was coming, but I was sure she was not. So, just now, before you came, I sent a message to her. It will bring her.... It does not matter what a woman like me does."
"What did you say to her?"
"I wrote, 'If you wish to see him before the end, come quickly.' She will think he is dying."
"If she resents the subterfuge?"
"Risks must be taken. If he goes without their meeting—who can tell! Now is the time—now. I want to see it. It must be."
He reached out both hands and took hers, while she grew pale. Her eyes had a strange childishly frightened look.
"You are a good woman, Al'mah," he said.
A quivering, ironical laugh burst from her lips. Then, suddenly, her eyes were suffused.
"The world would call it the New Goodness then," she replied in a voice which told how deep was the well of misery in her being.
"It is as old as Allah," he replied.