"All what you want you must have," continued Ibrahim, gravely.

"Ibrahim reads my thoughts like a true Eastern!" said Nigel.

"What I want now is a bath," remarked Mrs. Armine, smelling the rose.

"Directly we have had one more look at the Nile from our own garden,"
exclaimed Nigel.

But she had stopped before the house.

"I can't take my bath in the Nile. Good-bye, Nigel!"

Before he could say a word she had crossed a little terrace, disappeared
through a French window, and vanished into the villa.

Ibrahim smiled, hung his head, and then murmured in a deep contralto
voice:

"The wife of my Lord Arminigel, she does not want Ibrahim any more, she
does not want the Nile, she wants to be all alone."

He shook his head, which drooped on his long and gentle brown neck,
sighed, and repeated dreamily:

"She wants to be all alone."

"We'll leave her alone for a little and go and look at the gold."

Meanwhile within the house Mrs. Armine was calling impatiently for her