started. Sir Aubrey was morose and silent, and she exchanged most of
her badinage with Stephens, who was superintending the packing of the
tiffin basket that would accompany her in charge of the man who had
been selected as her personal servant, and who was waiting, with
Mustafa Ali and about ten men, to ride with her.

The time for starting came. Stephens was fussing about the horse that
Diana was to ride.

"Everything all right, Stephens? Up to your standard? Don't look so
glum. I wish you were coming to look after me, but it couldn't be done.
Sir Aubrey would be lost without you."

The idea of a tour without Stephens in the background seemed suddenly
momentous, and the smile she gave him was more serious than she meant
it to be. She went back to her brother, who was pulling his moustache
savagely. "I don't think there's any use waiting any longer. You won't
want to hurry yourself too much, and you will want to be in Biskra in
time for dinner," she said as casually as she could.

He swung towards her. "Diana, it's still not too late to change your
mind. For Heaven's sake give up this folly. It's tempting Providence."
For the first time there was a genuine ring in his voice, and for a
moment Diana wavered, but only for a moment. Then she looked at him
with a slow smile.

"Do I fall on your neck and say, 'Take me back, dear Guardian; I will
be good,' or do I prostrate myself at your feet and knock my head on
your boots, and whine, in the language of the country, 'Hearing is
obeying'? Don't be ridiculous, Aubrey. You can't expect me to change my