Into the Unknown
Edith was weak with hunger and fatigue. Iskander's bearded face peered in at her keenly and the Arab gathered her up bodily in his arms. When she pushed away from him and gained her feet on the ground, he spoke gently.
"Madame must have a bath. Then dinner will be served."
Bewildered by the ordeal of the day and night, Edith saw that she was being led to a small, whitewashed dak bungalow. It was evening and she could barely make out her surroundings; but in a neat room stood a tin tub filled with warm water. Iskander pointed to a pile of clothing on a chair.
"It would be well to change," he suggested respectfully. "The night in the upper Hills will be cold, very cold. We cannot stay here."
With that he left her, closing the door after him. Edith's woman soul yearned for the tub, but she was resentfully unwilling to bathe. She took up the clothing and was surprised to see a stout walking suit of her own, with shoes and woolen stockings. Her tam-o'-shanter was there, as well as a linen waist.
Edith appreciated the advantage of changing from the flimsy ball gown to a serviceable attire. Feeling utterly weary, she even indulged in a hasty wash—and donned the other suit.
Iskander smiled approval when he saw her changed dress. He did up the discarded gown skillfully and announced that dinner waited in the main room of the bungalow. Food and the warmth of a fire at her back brought irresistible drowsiness. Reaction claimed her at last As she stared at the white figure of the Arab, it seemed to grow until it filled the room. Iskander's eyes peered into hers.
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