"Exactly! And you were brooding over what she said of the needle carrying only one thread?"
"I was thinking of it—yes."
"You were also thinking of what you had said yourself in your letter to me—that if I resisted my father's will the results might be serious for all of us?"
"That too, perhaps."
"There you are, then—there's the stuff of your dream, dear. But don't you see that whatever a man's opinions and sympathies may be, his affections are a different matter altogether—that love is above everything else in a man's life—yes, everything—and that even if this Ishmael Ameer were to divide me from my father or from your father—which God forbid!—he could not possibly separate me from you?"
She looked up into his eyes and said—there was a smile on her lips now—"Could nothing separate you and me?"
"Nothing in this world," he answered.
Her trembling lips fluttered up to his, and again there was a moment of silence. The sun had gone down, the stars had begun to appear, and, under the mellow gold of mingled night and day, the city below, lying in the midst of the desert, looked like a great jewel on the soft bosom of the world.
"You must go now, dear," she whispered.
"And you will promise me never to think these ugly thoughts again?"