top----"

And so they went.

What she expected to find she did not ask herself. In any case they
rode on, eventually coming out at a small enclosure where stood a sort
of bungalow in those days--it is probably pulled down now, but then it
stood with a wonderful view over the desert, and over the green world.
Tamara had vaguely observed it in the distance before, but imagined it
to be some water-tower of the hotel, it was so bare and gaunt. It had
been built by some mad Italian, they heard afterward, for rest and
quiet.

It was a quaint place with tiny windows high up, evidently to light a
studio, and there was a veranda to look at the view towards the Nile.

When they got fairly close they could see that on this veranda a young
man was stretched at full length. A long wicker chair supported him,
while he read a French novel. They--at least Tamara--could see the
yellow back of the book, and also, one regrets to add, she was
conscious that the young man was only clothed in blue and white striped
silk pyjamas!--the jacket of which was open and showed his chest--and
one foot, stretched out and hanging over the back of another low chair,
was--actually bare!

Mrs. Hardcastle touched her donkey and hurried past--the path went so
very near this unseemly sight! And Tamara followed, but not before the
young man had time to raise himself and frown with fury. She almost
imagined she heard him saying "Those devils of tourists!" Then with the
corner of her eye ere they got out of sight, she perceived that a