“I never understood my own nature before,” said Stephens. “I can hardly say that I had a nature to understand. I lived for what was unimportant, and I neglected what was vital.” “Oh, a good shake-up does nobody any harm,” the Colonel remarked. “Too much of the feather-bed-and-four-meals-a-day life is not good for man or woman.” “It is my firm belief,” said Mrs. Belmont gravely, “that there was not one of us who did not rise to a greater height during those days in the desert than ever before or since. When our sins come to be weighed, much may be forgiven us for the sake of those unselfish days.” They all sat in thoughtful silence for a little, while the scarlet streaks turned to carmine, and the grey shadows deepened, and the wild-fowl flew past in dark straggling V’s over the dull metallic surface of the great smooth-flowing Nile. A cold wind had sprung up from the eastward, and some of the party rose to leave the deck. Stephens leaned forward to Sadie. “Do you remember what you promised when you were in the desert?” he whispered. “What was that?” “You said that if you escaped you would try in future to make some one else happy.” “Then I must do so.” “You have,” said he, and their hands met under the shadow of the table.