When Grace had first expressed the desire to return to New York, she confessed to a lack of funds. Carl, grateful for the tender care she had taken of him while he was ill at the hospital, offered to pay her passage to New York. This she consented to, with the stipulation that she be given work at his office where a weekly deduction could be made from her salary until the money he had advanced was repaid. It was with this understanding, then, that she accompanied Carl to New York. Carl instructed her as to her duties, but did not notice that her eyes seemed to flash with an eager light and an avid gleam, such as the mere technique of the work could never have provoked. She seemed to bask in the favor of his presence and look; to wither and wilt when he withdrew from her gaze, as a flower might do, if withdrawn from the light and the glow of the life-giving sun. While his business mail had been attended to during his absence, quite a collection of personal mail awaited him. He was too busy for the moment to pay much attention to it and gave the envelopes but a passing glance, as if looking for something of especial interest or note. Not finding what he desired, the entire lot was set aside for more leisurely perusal. During the homeward journey, he had laid plans for the irrigation of the Sahara, and with his assistant, in his private office, he discussed the making of these plans for a scientific irrigation system, to take the place of the French plan for flooding the Sahara by means of a canal from the ocean. With this work thus auspiciously commenced, Carl was at liberty to give more careful consideration to his private matters, including that stack of mail. On second thought, however, he waited until the evening when the office force had left before he sat down to the task. The contents of the letters were practically all alike, only that the meaning in each was differently expressed, some were clever, some witty, some downright dull. But Carl was used to that. Among them were invitations to affairs that were already numbered among the annals of the past and others of a future time, which he made note of in anticipation of attending them, if circumstances permitted. He had started his plans for the Sahara irrigating scheme, but with Sana gone there was not the same enthusiasm and initiative as there was prior to that fateful trip into the desert when they had been trapped by Amshied and when he had so utterly failed to play the hero, the rescuer of his beloved one. The spur was gone. Again, there came to him Sana’s promise that she would give anything a woman could give to the man, who of course was Carl, who saved her homestead at the Gurara Oasis. But now she was dead and his desire to work on the Sahara plan was likewise dying.