that veranda at Assiout, and--"

"And you made it difficult for him to explain at once--I remember."

"I'm afraid I did. I've got a nasty little temper at times, and I had a
chance to get even. Then things got mixed, and Foulik Pasha upset the
whole basket of plums. Besides, you see, I'm a jealous man, an envious
man, and you never looked so well as you did that day, unless it's
to-day."

She was about to interrupt him, but he went on.

"I had begun to feel that we might have been better friends, you and I;
that--that I might have helped you more; that you had not had the
sympathy you deserved; that civilisation was your debtor, and that--"

"No, no, no, you must not speak that way to me," she interposed with
agitation. "It--it is not necessary. It doesn't bear on the matter.
And you've always been a good friend--always a good friend," she added
with a little friendly quiver in her voice, for she was not quite sure of
herself.

Dicky had come out in a new role, one wherein he would not have been
recognised. It was probably the first time he had ever tried the
delicate social art of playing with fire of this sort. It was all true
in a way, but only in a way. The truest thing about it was that it was
genuine comedy, in which there were two villains, and no hero, and one
heroine.

"But there it is," he repeated, having gone as far as his cue warranted.