"What are you going to do in the desert?"
"Watch!"
"Yes, yes!" nodded Madame de la Maine. "And your aunt?"
"Deep in a bazaar for the hospital," smiled Miss Redmond.
Madame de la Maine regarded her slender friend with admiration and envy. "Why hadn't I thought of it?" She rang for her maid.
"Because your great-grandfather was not a pioneer!" Miss Redmond answered.
* * * * * * *
The sun which, all day long, held the desert in its burning embrace, went westward in his own brilliant caravan.
"The desert blossoms like a rose, Thérèse."
"Like a rose?" questioned Madame de la Maine.