He turned. Doctor Hartley was at the top of the steps.
"One minute! I'll come down!" he said, still whispering.
He turned back and glanced over his shoulder. Then, putting his two hands upon the two rails on either side of the steps, he was swiftly and rather boyishly down, and standing by Isaacson.
"I—we—I think we may as well have a word together before you go."
His self-possession was distinctly affected. Anxiety showed itself nakedly in his yellow-brown eyes, and there were wrinkles in his low forehead just below the crimpy hair.
"She's fallen asleep," he added, looking hard at Isaacson.
"Just as you like," Isaacson said indifferently.
"I think, after what has passed, it will be better."
Isaacson glanced round on the stretched-out Nubians, on Ibrahim and Hassan in a corner, standing respectfully but looking intensely inquisitive.
"We'd—we can go in here," said Doctor Hartley.