d'you think, Dekko old friend? What course shall I set? Shall we go
home, or to Heliopolis?"

The bird scrambled awkwardly on to the dressing-table.

"Well, old man, how about it?"

"Steer a straight course for hell, old dear," came the muffled reply,
as the bird twisted its head under its wing, then untucked it to murmur
sleepily: "T'hell!"

So she made up her mind to move on the very day after the girl's
birthday, which fell in a fortnights time. She would, indeed, have
left at once if it had not been that she had issued invitations on a
gigantic scale for a fancy-dress ball in honour of the anniversary.

Inwardly Damaris rebelled at the suggestion of moving on to Heliopolis;
outwardly she acquiesced without enthusiasm.

"But if it will do that nasty little cough good, dearest, why wait for
the ball?"

"Do you want to go, Maris?"

"The desert will be so near," evaded the girl. "Half-an-hour's ride at
the most, so--so Ben Kelham told me, and there you see the desert,
miles upon miles of it stretching right away like the sea."

The hawk-eyes flashed across the girl's face, taking in the forced
indifference of the expression and the light which gleamed far down in