the unaccountable. She saw the desert behind him, a world of different laws and customs, of different feeling … and a strange breath seemed to come out of the burning sands. There were palm-trees, cut sharply against the pale horizon. There was a line of laden camels plod- ding through the sand … and then it was a night-encampment, the black tents pitched in the glare of the moonlight, and the camels snarling as they lay down beyond the fires. … Her eyelids drooped with a bored look, and she rose.
"It's getting late—I want to see Ronald before he goes to bed," she said abruptly.
Crayven leaped to his feet.
"Have I—are you—surely you don't mind what I said," he cried quickly, his face alive and keen.
"Mind? No," she answered coldly.
"But you do! Now tell me why you mustn't be offended with me, I can't have it."
He barred the path, eager and determined.
"Oh, nonsense, let us get on home. … Well, then, if you must have what's obvious explained, one doesn't like to be turned off with a banal compliment when one is talking seriously. I know you don't want to talk to me about yourself, but there are other ways of making it clear, aren't there? … I shall be less inquisitive in future."
