"And now tell me about yourself. You never
wrote that you were going to be married."
"I knew you would know it in time--when we met again."
"And you knew we should meet again?"
"Did not you?"
He nodded.
"In the heart of the desert. And you--where are you going? You are not
returning to civilisation?"
"I don't know. I have no plans. I want to do what my husband wishes."
"And he?"
"He loves the desert. He has suggested our buying an oasis and setting
up as date merchants. What do you think of the idea?"
She spoke with a smile, but her eyes were serious, even sad.
"I cannot judge for others," he answered.
When he got up to go he held her hand fast for a moment.
"May I speak what is in my heart?" he asked.
"Yes--do."
"I feel as if what I have told you to-day about myself, about my having
come to the open door of a home I had long been wearily seeking, had
made you sad. Is it so?"
"Yes," she answered frankly.
"Can you tell me why?"
"It has made me realise more sharply than perhaps I did before what must
be the misery of those who are still homeless."
There was in her voice a sound as if she suppressed a sob.
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