"Yes," she replied blushing, "as many as Penelope, not one of whom
cares twopence about me any more than I care for them. The truth is,
Mr. Quatermain, that nobody and nothing interest me, except a spot in
the churchyard yonder and another amid ruins in Egypt."

"You have had sad bereavements," I said looking the other way.

"Very sad and they have left life empty. Still I should not complain
for I have had my share of good. Also it isn't true to say that
nothing interests me. Egypt interests me, though after what has
happened I do not feel as though I could return there. All Africa
interests me and," she added dropping her voice, "I can say it because
I know you will not misunderstand, you interest me, as you have always
done since the first moment I saw you."

"/I!/" I exclaimed, staring at my own reflection in a silver plate
which made me look--well, more unattractive than usual. "It's very
kind of you to say so, but I can't understand why I should. You have
seen very little of me, Lady Ragnall, except in that long journey
across the desert when we did not talk much, since you were otherwise
engaged."

"I know. That's the odd part of it, for I feel as though I had seen
you for years and years and knew everything about you that one human
being can know of another. Of course, too, I do know a good lot of
your life through George and Harut."

"Harut was a great liar," I said uneasily.