They talked, and by the
motion of the man's hand Kenkenes fancied that he described something
growing near the Nile. Presently they walked together toward the
outlet of the valley. The taskmaster leaped down the ledge and,
turning, put up his arms and lifted Rachel down. It was plain that
something more than courtesy inspired the act, for the man's hands fell
reluctantly. Kenkenes faced sharply about and proceeded up the hill to
his statue with a queer discomfort tugging at his heart.
That night in his effort to bring forth the coveted expression in his
drawings of Athor, Kenkenes all but satisfied himself.
The next day, without any apparent cause, he went back to the niche in
the desert, stayed without purpose, and departed when no tangible
reason urged him. When the day declined he climbed down the front of
the hill and crossed the narrow field toward his boat, which was buried
in the rank vegetation of the water's edge. At the Nile he noted, a
little distance up the river, a familiar figure among the reeds. For a
moment he hesitated and then rambled through the riotous growth in that
direction. As he drew near, Rachel raised herself from a search in a
thicket of herbs, her arms full of them and her face a little flushed.
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