ee gaily across the table.

"You mean the department store of Mr. Isaac Cohen," Billy laughed
back. "They are all under him, you know."

"Not _really_!" Falconer exclaimed, in disillusionment. "It rather
takes it out, doesn't it, to know it is so commercialized."

"What did you expect--it is the twentieth century," Miss Falconer
retorted, putting aside her knitting as the tea things arrived.

"Sometimes it is," said Arlee.

"I think it's more so than ever, here," declared Lady Claire.
"Egypt's so _frightfully_ civilized----"

"Not when you're camping in the desert."

Again that funny little smile flitted over Arlee's face; not once
did she glance at Billy, but for all her air of unconsciousness he
felt that she was subtly sharing her thoughts with him and a quick
spark of gladness flashed in him.

Those had been three horrible days for Billy B. Hill.

Friday morning he had been practically a prisoner until his trunks
had arrived. He had emerged upon a spectacle of England
triumphant--Robert Falconer escorting Arlee to the temple of Luxor.
Later that afternoon he had called upon Arlee upon the boat to find
Falconer still there, and the Evershams very much so.

Robert Falconer had accompanied him back to the hotel. There was
something that he wanted to ask, and he asked it bluntly, but with
embarrassment. Had Billy said anything at all to Arlee of that
nonsense at the palace?

Here was a contingency for which Billy was not provided. He made no
provisions for this with Arlee.

"Have you?" he parried.

"Not a word," said the young Englishman. "We've not mentioned the
fellow's filthy name. But I wondered----"

"I did tell her we got worried one night, and tried to get into his
palace like a pair of brigands," Billy answered slowly.

"She must have thought us great fools," the sandy-haired young man
replied disgustedly. Clearly he felt that Billy had flourished this
story before Arlee to appear romantic, and he winced at its
absurdity.

"Oh, no--she just thought of it as a lark on our part," Billy went
on. "I didn't le