But
you've had disappointment, trouble, hard nuts to crack, and all you could
do to escape the rocks being rolled down the Egyptian hill onto you; and
it's left its mark."
"Am I grown so different?"
Lacey's face shone under the look that was turned towards him. "Say,
Saadat, you're the same old red sandstone; but I missed the thee and
thou. I sort of hankered after it; it gets me where I'm at home with
myself."
David laughed drily. "Well, perhaps I've missed something in you. Thee
never says now--not since thee went south a year ago, 'Well, give my love
to the girls.' Something has left its mark, friend," he added teasingly;
for his spirits were boyish to-day; he was living in the present. There
had gone from his eyes and from the lines of his figure the melancholy
which Hylda had remarked when he was in England.
"Well, now, I never noticed," rejoined Lacey. "That's got me. Looks as if
I wasn't as friendly as I used to be, doesn't it? But I am--I am,
Saadat."
"I thought that the widow in Cairo, perhaps--" Lacey chuckled.
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