very intimate affairs. If------"

Damaris waited to hear no more.

White as chalk, she stumbled back into the room and crouched down upon
the floor beside a chair, burying her face in her arms. For five of
the longest minutes of her life she knelt, burning with shame,
trembling with rage; then she sat hack on her heels.

"Is there nobody to help me in all the wide world? Nobody I can go to?"

And clearly, as though it was in the room, she heard the echo of the
words spoken in the Shrine of Anubis, the God of Death: "Allah! how I
love you, and if I may not be your master, I can at least serve you.
If you are in distress, will you send me a messenger to my Tents of
Purple and Gold? . . . My boat from sunset to sunrise waits at the
landing-stage . . . the mare Pi-Kay waits from the setting until the
rising of the sun at the Gate of To-morrow."

She acted on the impulse of her outraged pride; she gave not one
thought to the mad thing she was about to do; she stayed not one
instant to question the trustworthiness of the man who had so strangely
shadowed her since their meeting in the bazaar; she decided in the
flick of an eyelid.

She would go to him; she would tell him everything, and if he were then
willing to make her his wife, she would go to his English mother, and
from the shelter of her arms proclaim her engagement to the world.

Yes! she would run away.