"The present--yes," she said in a muffled little voice.

He bent his head to hear her through the veil.

A tormenting curiosity was assailing him. It had become not enough
to know that she was young and slender, with enchanting eyes and a
teasing spirit of wit.... Vaguely he had thought her to be French,
one of the quaint _jeunes filles_ so rarely taken traveling.

But who was she? A child at her first ball? But what in the world
was she doing, back in the palms, away from her chaperon?

He realized, even in the cloud of his fascination, that French
_jeunes filles_ are not wonted to lurk about palms at a ball.

Was she a little Cinderella, then, slipping among the guests? Some
poor companion, stealing in for fun?... She was too young. And there
was that watch, that glitter of diamonds upon her wrist.

"Have you just come to Cairo?"

She shook her head. "For some time--I have been here."

"Up the Nile yet?"

"The Nile--no, monsieur."

"But you are going?"