"I don't mind paying what's fair. I don't want other people to pay."

She turned angrily on him, he could not tell why. "You don't want others
to pay! As if you could do anything that doesn't affect others. Did you
learn that selfishness at Skaw Fell, or was it born with you? You are of
those who think they earn all their own success and happiness, and then,
when they earn defeat and despair, are surprised that others suffer. As
if our penalties were only paid by ourselves! Egotism, vanity! So long
as you have your dance, it matters little to you who pays for the tune."

"I am sorry." He was bewildered; he had not expected this.

"Does a man stoop to do in a foreign land what he would not do in his own
country--dare not do?--One is so helpless--a woman! Under cover of an
old friend ship--ah!" She suddenly turned, and, before he could say a
word, disappeared inside the house. He spoke her name once, twice; he
ventured inside the house, and called, but she did not come. He made his
way to the veranda, and was about to leave for the shore, when he heard a
step behind him. He turned quickly. It was the Circassian girl, Mata.

He spoke to her in Arabic, and she smiled at him. "What is it?" he
asked, for he saw she had come from her mistress.

"My Lady begs to excuse--but she is tired," she said in English, which
she loved to use.

"I am to go on--to prison, then?"

"I suppose. It has no matter. My Lady is angry. She has to say, 'Thank