All this while Carl had been thinking of just one thing. That was to secure Sana for himself. Sana, he was sure, brought up under the strict discipline of her father and with her broad views of life, would be a safer wife to him than the cold blooded, calculating New York propositions, as he called them, most of whom do not know what they want, and flit from man to man as occasion demands. To suit his purpose, he changed the conversation, taking her hand into his. To his delight she made no attempt to prevent his doing so. “Do you intend staying here in this wilderness?” “Yes, for some little time. Sooner or later, mother and I shall return to the Gurara Oasis, where I was born.” “You mean you will never leave the desert?” Carl asked anxiously. “No, not that I know of. I do not care for European life.” “Well, then, how about America, New York?” “I confess I do like New York, with its shops, and plays and excitement. Oh, yes, I like those funny little places in Greenwich Village, I believe you call it.” “Oh, that ‘nut section.’ They are rather unconventional there. Who took you there?” “My friend, Mrs. O’Brien, myself and two men friends of hers visited it one night, strolling from place to place. We had dinner and danced at the ‘Greenwich Village Inn’ and went also to the ‘Black Cat’ and the ‘Pirates’ Den’--the pirates there were rather tame, though.” “Wouldn’t you like to return to America, to New York, to the Village, in company of a great admirer of yours?” “I do not know who that could be,” turning her head away from him. “Assume that he would be sitting at present at your side, holding your hand.” Sana tried to withdraw her hand at this, but Carl held it the tighter. He leaned toward her, taking the other hand too, and whispered softly, “Sana, dear, look at me. Ever since I met you on the bridge that afternoon you have filled my dreams. I despaired of ever seeing you again, and life did not seem worth the living. When I saw you again last night it was in a dream. Thoughts of you kept me awake all night. Will you return to America as my wife? You know I love you and love you dearly. And I think you care for me too.” The girl was a little uneasy, as if at a loss to know what to do or say. Her gaze ranged the distant horizon as she slowly replied, “You may be right with regard to the last--I cannot say. But I will admit I couldn’t sleep last night myself. That we should meet here I do not understand.” “Sana, dear, answer my question,” pleaded Carl, trying to draw her to him gently. The question was never answered, for, with a sudden jerk Sana freed one hand and slapped herself on the neck. A bee, stunned by the blow, fell into her lap. Sana made a grimace and touching carefully the spot where the bee had left its sting, remarked, “I believe it is swelling.”