Mohammed had returned with the tea, and Michael, who was more than ready for it, lapsed into silence while he ate his Huntley and Palmer biscuits and drank his tea. His thoughts went back to el-Azhar.
His silence lasted for some time. He was very far from Shepheard's
Hotel. Margaret had not forgotten her promise. She was closer than
Millicent.
"You are not very polite—I have had to pump you with questions, or you would not have spoken at all. I have been patient while you drank your tea; now talk to me."
"Please forgive me, but you know I did not want to come. I was hungry and I was going back to tea. I am not good company."
"You didn't want to come?" She laughed. "Really, your rudeness is refreshing! The desert has made you worse than ever."
Michael looked into her beautiful eyes. "I am in no temper for banter. You know what I mean, you know why I didn't want to have tea with you or see you. Rudeness between us is out of the question."
"All this because you're a dear old puritan. Or is it because"—she hardened her eyes—"because you're afraid of the dark-haired girl? Has she forgiven you?" In the same breath she said, "When are we going on our journey? It's my turn soon."
"What do you mean?" he said. "I wish you wouldn't talk like that. We are going on no journey."
"You'll let me give you another cup of tea?—I'm allowed to do that much. Well, I had my fortune told two days ago by a man at the Pyramids. He's supposed to be very clever. He said I was going on a journey into the desert with a man I loved; he spoke of some great thing that was going to happen on the journey. He described you accurately. He was really very funny—I wish you could have heard him. He saw great wealth for you and some misfortunes."
Michael looked into her mischievous eyes. "They talk a lot of rot."