“Oh, women! A woman cries for everything and for nothing. It is the sharpest arrow she has in her quiver,—the best card in her hand. When a woman cries, what can you do but give her all she asks for?” “Do you—dislike women?” “No, by Jove! I am never really happy unless one is near me, or more than one. A man, as a rule, has an amount of energy within him which he cannot turn to profit on himself alone. It is good for him to have a woman by him that he may work for her, and thus have exercise for his limbs and faculties. I am very fond of women. But I always like those best who are most helpless.” We were silent again for a while, and it was during this time that I found myself lying with my head in his lap. I had slept, but it could have been but for a few minutes, and when I woke I found his hand upon my brow. As I started up he said that the flies had been annoying me, and that he had not chosen to waken me as I seemed weary. “It has been that double bathing,” I said, apologetically; for I always feel ashamed when I am detected sleeping in the day. “In hot weather the water does make one drowsy. By Jove, it’s getting dark; we had better have the horses.” “Stay half a moment,” he said, speaking very softly, and laying his hand upon my arm, “I will not detain you a minute.” “There is no hurry in life,” I said. “You promised me just now you would assist me.” “If it be in my power, I will.” “Before we part at Alexandria I will endeavour to tell you the story of my troubles, and then if you can aid me—” It struck me as he paused that I had made a rash promise, but nevertheless I must stand by it now—with one or two provisoes. The chances were that the young man was short of money, or else that he had got into a scrape about a girl. In either case I might give him some slight assistance; but, then, it behoved me to make him understand that I would not consent to become a participator in mischief. I was too old to get my head willingly into a scrape, and this I must endeavour to make him understand. “I will, if it be in my power,” I said. “I will ask no questions now; but if your trouble be about some lady—” “It is not,” said he. “Well; so be it. Of all troubles those are the most troublesome. If you are short of cash—” “No, I am not short of cash.” “You are not. That’s well too; for want of money is a sore trouble also.” And then I paused before I came to the point. “I do not suspect anything bad of you, Smith. Had I done so, I should not have spoken as I have done. And if there be nothing bad—” “There is nothing disgraceful,” he said. “That is just what I mean; and in that case I will do anything for you that may be within my power. Now let us look for Joseph and the mucherry-boy, for it is time that we were at Jericho.”