That morning's sun, as it set at last over Egypt, lit up the peninsula of Sinai with fierce red flames. The hot day had drawn slowly out, and most people were in deck chairs, with their books on their laps as the sun went down. Even the Major had been reading, a novel by Mr. Charles Garvice. Earlier on, the three had merrily attacked him for his choice, and he had stoutly defended himself. "That's all very well," he said, "but the sort of stuff they put in novels these days, beats me. I don't want to read a bally sermon--can't understand it either--and half the rest a fellow's ashamed to read in ladies' company. Now this chap, what's his name?" (he looked back to the cover--"Never can remember authors' names")--"Garvice, you always know what you've got with him." "Milk and honey," said Muriel in her abrupt way, staring out over the peninsula in the direction of the Promised Land. "Eh?" queried the Major, hopelessly at sea. Muriel laughed. "Yes, and there are the Ten Commandments," she said, "over there." Jardine still looked puzzled. He liked Muriel, against his will as it were. Ursula, he told Paul, was so damned quiet, but Muriel said things a feller couldn't understand. Odd pair. Pretty though. And deuced attractive. What did Kestern think? So now. "That's where you get me," he said. "But, I say, what about a sundowner? Coming, Kestern?" Paul rose. Ursula looked up. "Bring two more and come back," she said lazily. "Right, Miss Manning. You and Miss Lister can discuss the Commandments for five minutes exactly. Then you must forget them." "But there's nothing about sundowners in the Decalogue, Major," said Paul gaily, as he moved off. "Or I shouldn't----" They went out of hearing. Muriel glanced at her companion. "It's odd," she said. "Paul's lost sight of God, but he still thinks he can keep morality." Ursula fixed her gaze on the darkening mountains. "I don't agree, my dear," she said. "How?" "He's not so much lost sight of God. He's seeing Him truly at last." Muriel considered this. "You mean His veil of beauty that you're so fond of talking about, and painting," she said. "Well, perhaps.... But still he thinks he keeps orthodox morality." "He simply hasn't thought of that," said Ursula. Muriel found a marker and shut her book. Her motions suggested that she was about to open a conversation, but she did not speak at once, though she put her book down and stretched herself out in her chair. But at last she spoke deliberately. "Dear," she said, "I know what you think about all that.... Now Paul's in love with you, whether he knows it or whether he doesn't." (A little pause.) "You know it anyway. Also you're high priestess of his new religion."