a man may best be known, said that the old soldier had a young man’s heart and a young man’s spirit—so that if he wished to keep a young man’s colour also it was not very unreasonable after all.
It was very soothing and restful up there on the saloon deck, with no sound but the gentle lipping of the water as it rippled against the sides of the steamer. The red after-glow was in the western sky, and it mottled the broad, smooth river with crimson. Dimly they could discern the tall figures of herons standing upon the sand-banks, and farther off the line of riverside date-palms glided past them in a majestic procession. Once more the silver stars were twinkling out, the same clear, placid, inexorable stars to which their weary eyes had been so often upturned during the long nights of their desert martyrdom.
“Where do you put up in Cairo, Miss Adams?” asked Mrs. Belmont at last.
“Shepheard’s, I think.”
“And you, Mr. Stephens?”
“Oh, Shepheard’s, decidedly.”
