She sprang up, and turned out the light.
The next day the Loulia tied up under the garden of the Villa Androud, just beyond the stone promontory that diverted the strong current of the river. Nigel, too weak to walk up the bank to the house, was carefully carried by the Nubians. The surprised servants of the villa, who had had no notice of their master's arrival, hastened to throw back the shutters, to open the windows, letting in light and air. And Ibrahim once more began to look authoritative, for it seemed that Hamza's reign was over. From henceforth only Meyer Isaacson gave food and drink and "sick-food" to "my Lord Arminigel."
The change from dahabeeyah life to life on shore seemed at once to make a difference to the patient. When he was put carefully down in the white and yellow drawing-room, and, looking out through the French windows across the terrace, saw the roses blowing in the sandy garden, he heaved a sigh that was like a deep breathing of relief.
"I'm thankful to be out of the Loulia, Ruby," he said to his wife, who was standing beside the sofa on which he was resting.
"Are you, Nigel. Why?"
"I don't know. It seemed to oppress me. And you know that writing?"
"What writing?"
"Over the door as you went in."
"Oh, yes."