Romney turned and walked back to the Consulate. He had met nothing of this sort before from his most excellent _boy_; and the fact that Bamban’s resistance tallied with a fear in his own mind, added to the coldness with which he regarded the venture. He recalled his first swift rejection of taking Anna Erivan forward on the mission. So utterly had he put the thought away that it had not returned even in the great stress at the thought of separation. Yet when she asked to go, there had been no question; only the instant sense of warning which he had put from him steadily.... His step quickened. The braver way would be to change now—to explain his fear and ask her to remain. The force to accomplish this, however, did not arise in him. He had always been stubborn. He regarded his stubbornness now as something before which he was powerless.... She had asked to go. He had agreed. She was preparing even now. The journey to the desert was a part of her dream—their dream. It called him now. Rajananda—a queer sense of the old priest’s love and tenderness and guardianship came to mind. Romney shared with Anna Erivan a horror for Nadiram. He did not accept the thought that he was taking the woman to her death, yet an icy draught came to him somehow from the thought, a certain grim finality. He did not know how he loved her until he was near the court. A gust of warmth, an indescribable elation, swept over him, as he perceived her against the doorway. "You are pale," she said. "It is a strain to be away from you," he answered. "Bamban is Chinese. He does not understand," she said, with a touch of mirth. "I knew he would do his worst to make you go alone." Romney found that he had hoped she would change of her own accord, but this was out of the question. "I have locked up all his papers, and locked the Forward Room. My bags are almost ready—and yours. I helped a little in your room. I could not miss that thrill.... Ah, do not be troubled. I would die here.... Bamban does not know everything. Perhaps I will be a good omen, instead of evil. I think Rajananda would not make me stay." "Now that’s queer; I had the same thought," said Romney. Anna Erivan was standing by the table, waiting for him to come to her. "There should not be any mission—any task at this time," she said strangely. "There should be only two in the world—two and a desert—" "They have given us power," he answered. "All these obstacles make us only cleave together more furiously. I think I could not have known you as I know you now, if everything had been smooth for us. Perhaps it is in the Plan. There are always rapids where two rivers come together." For an instant her eyes burned passionately into his. "You are wise," she whispered. "You fill a woman’s dream. Last night you were like a priest. To-day you are like an adventurer—" "To-night?" "To-night—who knows what the desert will do?"