He did not answer. He was trying not to look at her.
"Or perhaps you see some way of escape—do you?"
Still he did not speak—he was even trying not to hear her.
"If not, why are you going into Cairo instead of Ishmael?"
"Don't ask me that, Helena. I would rather not answer you."
Suddenly the tears came into her eyes, and after a moment's silence she said—
"I know! I understand! But remember your father. He loves you. You may not think it, but he does—I am sure he does. Yet if you go into Cairo you know quite well what he will do."
"My father is a great man, Helena. He will do his duty whatever happens—what he believes to be his duty."
"Certainly he will, but all the same, do you think he will not suffer! And do you wish to put him into the position of being compelled to cut off his own son? Is that right? Can anything—anything in the world— make it necessary?"
Gordon did not answer her, but under the strain of his emotion he tightened his lips, and his pinched nostrils began to dilate like the nostrils of a horse.