"I've heard again, that Millicent was with him. The facts are undeniable. The whole thing makes me furious. Why couldn't he have written to me and told me, if she followed him, as you suggested? His silence condemns him."
"It makes me more than furious." Meg's voice was horrible in Freddy's ears; it was older, shriller, cruelly defiant. "It makes me furious to think how easily evil is believed of the absent, who can't defend themselves."
They strode along. Both were walking blindly forward.
"It makes me sick, sick, sick!" She flung the words out and then broke into a little cry. "Oh, Freddy, have you no faith? no trust? Is that your friendship?"
"What can I do?" he said. "I'm not blinded with love as you are. I see things dispassionately. I want to do what is best for you. Why hasn't he written? I'm quite willing to believe what Michael tells me—I don't doubt his word—but he has said nothing. This is another example of his weakness."
"Do you believe that Millicent is still with him?"
"Her dragoman who took her into the desert has returned to Luxor. I haven't seen him—he could tell us everything we want to know."
"The news came from him?" Meg's voice was a stinging reproach.
"Yes. He only remained in Luxor a few hours; he was going to his home in Assiut, but he spread the story."
There was a pause.