"Where . . and what . . is Sheik Budeen?"
The perceptible change in her tone disconcerted him. But the thing had to be got through; and he went ahead without swerving.
"It is an apology for a Hill Station, about fifty miles north of this. Just a handful of bungalows, on an ugly desolate rock, rising straight out of the plain. No trees; no water, except what they collect in a tank for use. But being nearly four thousand feet up, it's a few degrees cooler than this: and probably after a week or two there Mrs Desmond would be fit to stand the journey to Dalhousie."
It was characteristic of him that he made no attempt to soften facts: and Quita, edging a little away from him, lifted her head.
"Is it settled when one is to start for this inviting spot?" she asked, critically examining a distant star.
"In a few days, if Mackay agrees. Poor Desmond, he hates letting his wife go. But for her sake he wants to get her away from here as soon as possible."
"I see. And you want to get me away from here as soon as possible.
It's a very convenient arrangement for you both."
Her implication stabbed him. He stood still, and faced her; his eyes full of pain. But he made no attempt to touch her: which was a mistake.
She stood still also,—head uplifted, hands clasped behind her,—without discontinuing her scrutiny of the heavens.
"By the Lord, you are hitting back harder than I deserve," he reproached her desperately. "At least you might believe of me all that I said of Desmond, . . that it is for your sake, and that I shall hate letting you go. The suggestion was entirely his own. He asked me to tell you, from him, that you would be doing them both a very real kindness by going with Mrs Desmond; and I thought . . you would be glad of a chance to help either of them; especially since you must know, after all I said at Kajiar, that it is impossible . . yet for us to start fair and square."