“Well, your safety didn’t depend on him, did it?” Sharp jealousy of her defense of the American intruder drove Falconer to unseemly curtness.  He gave a short laugh.  “You and I,” he said, “seem to be always tilting over some chap or other.”

A faint smile touched the girl’s lips, a sorry little smile, edged with rueful reminiscence ... and strange comparisons.  In silence she looked down into the shadowy temple courts where absurdly small-looking people were strolling to and fro, while Falconer stood looking down at her, with something akin to angry wonder in his adoring eyes.

“Why didn’t you write to a chap?” he abruptly demanded.

“Why should I?”

“Then you meant to let it go at that?” He drew a sharp breath.  “Just the way you flared off from that table—­not a word more?”

“Why didn’t you write?” the girl parried.

“I did,” indignantly.  “Twice—­to Alexandria.”

“Oh....  I didn’t get them.”

“I wrote, all right.  I was so stirred up over that alarm of Hill’s that I urged you to answer me at once.  And when you didn’t, and when I heard you had written the Evershams, well, I thought I knew what I had to think....  When I met you here Friday I half expected you to cut me, upon my word!”

“But I didn’t!” She laughed softly.  “I remembered you—­perfectly.”

“Oh, you did, did you?...  You’ve acted as if that was about all you did remember.”

“I’ve been very, very nice to you!”

“But with a difference,” he insisted resentfully.  “Didn’t you know I must have written?  You didn’t think I wanted to let it stop there, did you?  You didn’t think I meant that nonsense at tea——­”

“Please don’t go back to that,” said the girl hurriedly.  “We’ve been good friends these three days without bringing it up—­don’t let us do it now.”

“Well, I don’t enjoy thinking about it.”  His voice was sharp with feeling.  “You gave me the most miserable time of my life.”

“I was very horrid.”

“You told me you didn’t give a piastre for what I thought!”

“I said I didn’t give half a piastre!” murmured Arlee irrepressibly, with a wicked dimple.

Reluctantly he grinned.  “Well?” he put to her questioningly.

“Well?”

Their eyes met, sparkling, combative.

“You do, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You do give a piastre for what I——­”

“I’m afraid I do.  I’m afraid I give a good many piastres for what everyone thinks.”  The girl’s smile had suddenly faded; her eyes lowered and sought the far horizons.

In the silence he came a little closer to her.  “Then Arlee—­Arlee, dear——­”

She started, and turned hurriedly.  “We must go down——­”

“Why must we?”

“They’ll be waiting.”

“Let ’em.  They’ll be glad of the chance if they can get away from Emma....  I want to talk to you.”