"Quite," Millicent said. "I didn't want anyone. Hassan's a reliable dragoman. I came to meet you."
"Do you think it was nice of you?"
"Well, no," she said. "Perhaps not, but it is nice for me, Mike, and it will be nice for you, too, if you will only be sensible and accept the situation."
"What do you mean by being sensible?" he asked.
"Just allowing me to come, and being pleasant and happy and enjoying yourself. I've everything I need—I won't ask you for a single thing but happiness."
"I shan't be happy—I wished to be alone. You knew it."
"What harm shall I do you? I'll halt when you halt, I'll go on when you go on. I'll be douce comme un lapin blanc—I really can be, Mike." Her eyes asked him if in that respect she was not speaking the truth.
"Yes," he said. "You can be anything you want to be." He sighed. "I wish you oftener wanted to be good, Millicent; I wish you oftener wanted to please me and not always only yourself."
"I'd get nothing if I did, Mike. I stole this march on you, half for fun and half because it's no use trusting to you. I never see you—you are afraid of yourself."
"I told you it was useless." He moved his camel further from hers. "I must see what is to be done. You must turn back. Your very presence disturbs all my ideas."