“So do other people love you! Don’t I love you? Gaw!—I’d lie down in the dust and let that beautiful beast of yours trample me to mash if it would give you what you want! I swear I would!”
“Ah! You are generous!” she said softly. “I saw it in your face. Tell me your name, that I may always remember it!”
He said, with a boldness that appalled him:
“When you have told me yours!”
“It is Zora. You do not like it?”
He blurted out: “I adore the name. I worship the girl it belongs to! I’m blest if I don’t, so there!”
She leaned from her saddle impulsively, and the golden cloak fell over him and covered him. He looked up, drowning in the light of her glorious eyes, and his boyhood fell away like a cast garment. He had come into his kingdom. He knew himself a man....
They were to meet but once again upon the dusty road to Aladyn. The next letter of the yellowed bundle docketed “From my dearest son” is dated:
“British Camp,