limply sitting on it, and when it had calmed down at sight of its
friends he retired into the background.

"How wonderful that you kept on, darling!" exclaimed Biddy.

"I didn't," said Monny. Then she turned to "Antoun," who remained on
his beast, in case of another emergency, or because he did not wish to
be looked down upon by her. He was rather glorious enthroned on his
camel, the only one of our party who was truly "in" the desert picture.
I didn't blame him for stopping up there on his sheepskin, eye to eye
with the girl.

For a moment Monny did not speak. She was evidently hesitating what to
do, but common sense and natural sweetness got the better of false
pride. "Antoun, you were right, and I was wrong," she admitted. "I said
yesterday that you were selfish, keeping the coastguard camels for
yourself and Lord Ernest and General Harlow, and giving us women the
baggage ones. Now I'm sorry. I was silly and hateful. I wouldn't ride
another fifty yards on this demon for fifty thousand dollars. He's
nearly broken my back, and if it hadn't been for you, he would quite
have done it. Please help me off, and put me on any old baggage thing
that nobody else wants."

Anthony's eyes lit for an instant, from satisfaction as a man, or from
Christian joy in her moral improvement. He sprang off his sky-scraping
camel, brought Monny's animal to its knees, helped her off, and
motioned to the Arab attendant of the Ugly Duckling of all the other
creatures. It gave the effect of being a cross between a camel and an
ostrich, and had been chosen by "Antoun" as his own mount, when he
surrendered the aristocrat to Monny.