Educated in the hugger-mugger way in which are educated the girls who will not have to use their knowledge to earn a livelihood; with, it must be confessed, the great and rare—­in these days—­asset of perfect manners and courtesy towards all mankind, yet had she never been taught the rudiments of self-control and deliberation.  She had a heart of gold, truly, but she leapt to conclusions with closed eyes.

With her to think had always been to act.  So that, having leapt far out into a morass of incertitude, she sat perplexed, for ’tis no easy matter to say, “Please will you marry me?” to a man, even if you know that he worships the ground your shadow falls upon.

He sat silent, with his eyes upon her hands, waiting for Fate to point out his path.

Little by little, bit by bit, her surroundings began to affect her.  The blood came slowly back to her cheeks so that they glowed like the wild rose in the hedgerow; and her eyes began to lose that set stare which hides the perturbed mind, and to soften behind the heavy fringe of lashes, and her hands to cease their nervous plucking at her dress.

She lifted her eyes to the strangely-painted tent side, looked at the silvery spear and tilted her head back until her throat gleamed like an ivory pillar, to look up at the ceiling with the painted vultures—­the emblem of maternity.

The man looked up, then looked down upon this woman of his mother’s race whom he loved, and longed with all the intense passion of his father’s race that he might see his first-born upon her breast.

She was trying to find words, and they came to her when she clasped her hands upon the jewelled brooch in the shape of the Hawk of Egypt.

She looked at him suddenly and a little shiver swept her at the strange beauty of this silent man; and he as suddenly turned his hands palm upwards in an uncontrollable gesture of Eastern prayer to Fate who had so much to give him, or, perhaps, so little!

“You said you—­you would help me if—­I came to you—­in trouble.”   She
tripped and stumbled over the words.   “I have come to--to------”

“Ask my help.”

The words were as cold as stones dropped in the beggar’s hand, but Damaris leant back quickly when she looked into the man’s eyes and saw in them the reflection of the fire she had kindled.

“What is the help you need of me?  I know nothing of the ways of women, but I do know that it has been the storm which has swept you from your safe harbour out towards a shore upon which are piled the wrecks of many souls.”

She twisted the brooch between her fingers.