Donovan Pasha, and Some People of Egypt — Volume 3 by Gilbert Parker
page 66 of 82 (80%)
page 66 of 82 (80%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
"I didn't know he had given up his desert-city till two days before you
did, and I didn't know he knew you, and I don't know why he gave up his desert-city--do you?" There was a new light in her eyes, a new look in her face. She was not sure but that she had a glimmering of the reason. It was a woman's reason, and it was not without a certain exquisite egotism and vanity, for she remembered so well the letter she had written him--every word was etched into her mind; and she knew by heart every word of his reply. Then there were the six slaves he sent to her-and his coming immediately afterwards. . . . For a moment she seemed to glow, and then the colour slowly faded and left her face rather grey and very quiet. He might not be a slave-driver now, but he had been one--and the world of difference it made to her! He had made his great fortune out of the work of the men employed as slaves, and--she turned away to the window with a dejected air. For the first time the real weight of the problem pressed upon her heavily. "Perhaps you would like to see him," said Dicky. "It might show that you were magnanimous." "Magnanimous! It will look like that--in a mud-cell, with mud floor, and a piece of matting." "And a balass of water and dourha-cakes," said Dicky in a childlike way, and not daring to meet her eyes. He stroked his moustache with his thumb-nail in a way he had when perplexed. Kingsley Bey was not in a mud-cell, with a mat and a balass |
|