That high green terrace of Cumberland, the mist on Skaw Fell, the sun out
over the sea, they were in her eyes. So much water had gone under the
bridges since!

"I was such a young girl then--in short frocks--it was a long time ago,
I fear," she added, as if in continuation of the thought flashing through
her mind. "Let me see," she went on fearlessly; "I am thirty; that was
thirteen years ago."

"I am thirty-seven, and still it is thirteen years ago."

"You look older, when you don't smile," she added, and glanced at his
grey hair.

He laughed now. She was far, far franker than she was those many years
ago, and it was very agreeable and refreshing. "Donovan, there, reproved
me last night for frivolity," he said.

"If Donovan Pasha has become grave, then there is hope for Egypt," she
said, turning to Dicky with a new brightness.

"When there's hope for Egypt, I'll have lost my situation, and there'll
be reason for drawing a long face," said Dicky, and got the two at such
an angle that he could watch them to advantage. "I thrive while it's
opera boufe. Give us the legitimate drama, and I go with Ismail."

The lady shrank a little. "If it weren't you, Donovan Pasha, I should
say that, associated with Ismail, as you are, you are as criminal as he."