"I--I--certainly congratulate you, with all my heart," he said, speaking
in a strange, husky voice. "Believe me, you're a luckier chap, Merriton,
than you know. Quite the luckiest chap in the world."

He took out his handkerchief suddenly and blew his nose, and then wiped
his forehead, which, Merriton noted, was damp with perspiration. Then he
felt in his pockets and produced a cigarette.

"I may smoke, 'Toinette? Thanks. I've had a long ride, and a hard
one.... And so you two are going to get married, are you?"

'Toinette's face, too, was rather pale. She smiled nervously, and
instinctively her hand crept out and touched Merriton's sleeve. She could
feel him stiffen suddenly, and saw how proudly he threw back his head.

"Yes," said 'Toinette. "We're going to be married, Dacre. And I am--oh,
so happy! I know you cannot help being pleased--with that. And uncle,
too. He seems delighted."

Wynne measured her with his eyes for a moment. Then he looked quickly
away.

"Well, Merriton, you've got your own back for little Rosie Deverill,
haven't you? Remember how heart-broken you were at sixteen, when she
turned her rather wayward affections to me? Now--the tables have turned.
Well, I wish you luck. Think I'll be getting along. I've a good deal of
work to do this evening, and I'll be shipping for Cairo, I hope, next
week. That's what I came to see you about 'Toinette, but I'm afraid I am
a little--late."