“Together,” he said.
An eager light had come into his eyes. He leaned forward towards her over the little table and stretched out his hand.
“Yes, together,” she said.
But she did not take his hand.
“Domini!” he said, still keeping his hand on the table, “Domini!”
An expression, that was like an expression of agony, flitted over her face and died away, leaving it calm.
“Let us finish,” she said quietly. “Look, they have taken the tents! In a moment we can go.”
The doves were silent. The night was very still in this nest of the Sahara. Ouardi brought them coffee, and Batouch came to say that the tents were ready.
“We shall want nothing more to-night, Batouch,” Domini said. “Don’t disturb us.”
Batouch glanced towards the Cafe Maure. A red light gleamed through its low doorway. One or two Arabs were moving within. Some of the camp attendants had joined the squatting men without. A noise of busy voices reached the tents.