Brown and orange and yellow and burnt brick-red, the sandstone hills and sandy wastes grew startlingly and swiftly clear as they watched. The new sun rose over the desert, over the rocky hills, a great golden orb, instantly alive. Magically the shadows drew off the sea or faded in its depths; the blue of it lightened, grew transparently clear, translucent. "Look," said Ursula, in a half whisper, and pointed down. Paul took a step forward, and peered where she indicated. In the still water a great shark followed by a small replica of itself moved lazily through the watery world about it. Its gentle sinuous movements were scarcely noticeable; it glided by undisturbed with just fanning tail. Slate-grey, mottled with black, it was so near the surface that one could fancy one saw its wicked little eye inspecting the silent monster of the ship lying there at its ease so invulnerable and great. "It's gone," said Paul. "My first shark! Even it was beautiful, Ursula." "But that faery town," said the girl softly, who had raised her eyes from the sea. White and picturesque, with the green of palms flecked here and there upon it, Port Suez sparkled in the now risen sun. With its tumbled flat-roofed houses, its occasional minaret, its fringe of gardens, it was a painted thing, a bit of the veritable East, for all the heat and dust and smells and commonplaceness of day in its streets. Paul stood motionless by her side, gazing. "Do you suppose we can go ashore?" he asked at length. "No." She shook her head. "Nobody ever seems to here. Besides you'd much better not, Paul." "I'd love to. I know what you're going to say, but I don't believe it. I like dirt and smells. They're just as mysterious and magical as colour and scent." "Rubbish," said Muriel, who had come up behind them. "Eh, Major?" "Gad, yes. Poet or not, Kestern, you wouldn't like Port Suez." Ursula glanced at them. "For all that, Paul's right," she said. And she smiled at him. A sort of fierce flame leapt in Paul at that. He had hard work to control himself. The hid passion of his nature was asserting itself. He threw his head back and laughed. Then he caught Ursula by the hand. "Oh, come on!" he cried. "Ursula, I'll race you round the deck." "Can't," she said laughing, "in a nightie. But I might manage to walk." She slipped her hand into his arm, and they strolled off. For the moment it was enough for Paul that they two walked together.