His Hour

Mrs. Hardcastle now was almost irritated.

"I cannot agree with you," she said. "Our lives have been full of good

and pleasant things--and I hope, dear, we have both done our duty."

This, of course, ended the matter! It was so undoubtedly true--each had

done her duty.

After breakfast they started for a last donkey-ride, as they must

return to Cairo in time for the Khedive's ball that night, which, as

distinguished English ladies, they were being taken to by their

compatriots at the Agency. Then on the morrow they were to start for

Europe. Mrs. Hardcastle could not spare more time away from her babies.

Their visit had only been of four short weeks, and now it was December

27, and home and husband called her.

For Tamara's part, she could do as she pleased; indeed, for two pins

she would have stayed on in Egypt.

But that was not the intention of fate!

"Do let us go up that sand-path, Millicent," she said, when they turned

out of the hotel gate. "We have never been there, and I would like to

see where it leads to--perhaps we shall get quite a new vista from the

top----"

And so they went.

What she expected to find she did not ask herself. In any case they

rode on, eventually coming out at a small enclosure where stood a sort

of bungalow in those days--it is probably pulled down now, but then it

stood with a wonderful view over the desert, and over the green world.

Tamara had vaguely observed it in the distance before, but imagined it

to be some water-tower of the hotel, it was so bare and gaunt. It had

been built by some mad Italian, they heard afterward, for rest and

quiet.

It was a quaint place with tiny windows high up, evidently to light a

studio, and there was a veranda to look at the view towards the Nile.

When they got fairly close they could see that on this veranda a young

man was stretched at full length. A long wicker chair supported him,

while he read a French novel. They--at least Tamara--could see the

yellow back of the book, and also, one regrets to add, she was

conscious that the young man was only clothed in blue and white striped

silk pyjamas!--the jacket of which was open and showed his chest--and

one foot, stretched out and hanging over the back of another low chair,

was--actually bare!

Mrs. Hardcastle touched her donkey and hurried past--the path went so

very near this unseemly sight! And Tamara followed, but not before the

young man had time to raise himself and frown with fury. She almost

imagined she heard him saying "Those devils of tourists!" Then with the

corner of her eye ere they got out of sight, she perceived that a

blue-clad Arab brought coffee on a little tray.