"
"Irene--you, too, are proud. Would you have me return now?"
"No. I know now that fate has chosen you to decide our fortunes. Go,
Dick, but come back to me in safety, or my poor little heart will
break."
Then, as though afraid of her own weakness, she drew herself from his
arms and hurried away towards the camp. He stood motionless, listening
to her footsteps, and his soul sang blithe canticles the while. At
last, when assured that she was within her tent, he picked up the
discarded burnous, strode to the waiting camels, and quickly the desert
enfolded him and his dreams in its great silence.
And Dick thanked the desert for its kindliness, which had made possible
that which was beyond credence. In London, how could a poverty-stricken
outcast dare to raise his eyes to the patrician heiress? He remembered
that first glance of hers, and the tactful way in which she had
discriminated between the man who might be glad of a sovereign for the
service he had rendered, and him who would value a woman's thanks far
beyond gold.
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