Raife forgot he was a woman-hater. He replied, "I'm sorry I haven't got a card with me, and, if I had, I couldn't get at it with this confounded shoulder. My name is Remington, sir, and I'm an Englishman. I will try to avail myself of your very kind invitation." As they departed, Raife, for the first time, saw those lips that helped Hilda Muirhead "to talk and laugh, and to sing." He also encountered her eyes that were for the purpose "of normal sight and restrained emotion." On this occasion it was a sympathetic emotion. When they had gone out into the hot sun for one of those expeditions on donkeys, that are such an attraction to visitors to Egypt, Raife contemplated. In the end he had determined that he would not accept Mr Muirhead's invitation to visit them in his suite. He hated the sound of the word "suite," anyhow. It is dull work for a strong young man to recline in a wicker chair, to smoke and to read all day in a hotel, whether it be in Cairo or elsewhere. To refuse the advances of a hundred eyes of every hue, and to maintain a stoical indifference to every one around, because one has suffered at the hands of two women was a brave endeavour. Raife confined himself to his own rooms and dined in solitary state for three days. At the end of that time his desire for companionship of some kind was uncontrollable. Raife sat in the foyer once more, and Mr Muirhead came across to him with an air of urbanity. "Ah, Mr Remington! We have not seen you during the last few days. I hope your wound has not been troubling you." Raife stood up and looking straight at the genial, old gentleman, said: "No, Mr Muirhead, not much; but the doctors have told me that if I don't keep quiet, I shall have complications, and I am already tired of `keeping quiet,' as they call it." "Well, Mr Remington, if you are tired of keeping quiet by yourself and you will dine with me to-night, in my room, I promise you quietude, and, at the same time, it may prove a relaxation to you." Raife could not refuse the invitation offered so gracefully, and he accepted. When Raife was announced that evening, in Mr Muirhead's suite of rooms, the first impression he received was that a very ordinary hotel room had been transformed into a bower of flowers and blossom, and that there were many evidences of home life around it in the shape of daintily-framed photographs and tiny ornaments representative of many countries. The arrangement of flowers on the dinner-table which awaited them, showed that an appreciative hand had tended them. Mr Muirhead received his guest, and after the ordinary interchange of greetings, sounded a gong which brought a dusky attendant.