"I know Nevill told me
that everything could wait till you got back," she explained, "but as I
am sending the twins, they might as well take this. It may be of
importance; and I'm afraid by the time you get it, the news will be
several days old already."
He guessed, before he looked, whence the telegram came; and he dreaded
to make sure. For an instant, he was tempted to put the folded bit of
paper in his pocket, unread until Touggourt, or even Biskra. "Why
shouldn't I keep these few days unspoiled by thoughts of what's to come,
since they're the only happy days I shall ever have?" he asked himself.
But it would be weak to put off the evil moment, and he would not yield.
He opened the telegram.
"Sailing on Virginian. Hope you can meet me Liverpool May 22nd.
Love and longing. Margot."
To-day was the 25th.
* * * * * * *
When he looked up, the courtyard was empty, and quiet, save for the
quacking of two or three forlorn ducks. Nevill had gone inside, and the
Highlanders were waiting upon him, no doubt--for Nevill liked a good
deal of waiting upon. The Arabs had left the animals peacefully feeding,
and had disappeared into the kitchen, or perhaps to have a last look at
the vanishing escort of the marabout's sacred son.
Stephen was suddenly conscious of fatigue, and a depression as of great
weariness. He envied Nevill, whose boyish laugh he heard.
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