Perhaps he thinks of me
in the same way."
"Of course he must, Babe, if he's really come to search for you," Saidee
said, looking at her young sister affectionately.
"Thank you a hundred times for saying that, dearest! I do _hope_ so!"
Victoria exclaimed, hugging the elder woman impulsively, as she used
when she was a little child.
But Saidee's joy, caught from her sister's, died down suddenly, like a
flame quenched with salt. "What good will it do you--or us--that he is
coming?" she asked bitterly. "He can ask for the marabout, and perhaps
see him. Any traveller can do that. But he will be no nearer to us, than
if we were dead and in our graves. Does Maieddine know about him?"
"They saw each other on the ship, coming to Algiers--and again just as
we landed."
"But has Maieddine any idea that you care about each other?"
"I had to tell him one day in the desert (the day Si Maieddine said he
loved me, and I promised to consent if _you_ put my hand in his)
that--that there was a man I loved. But I didn't say who. Perhaps he
suspects, though I don't see why he should. I might have meant some one
in America."
"You may be pretty sure he suspects. People of the old, old races, like
the Arabs, have the most wonderful intuitions. They seem to _know_
things without being told. I suppose they've kept nearer nature than
more civilized peoples."
"If he does suspect, I can't help it."
"No. Only it's still more sure that your Englishman won't be able to do
us any good.
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