Gillian rubbed her cheek against the soft sealskin with an understanding smile. It was hopeless to try and curb Miss Craven's generosity, hopeless to attempt to argue against it. "Next week," she answered the inquiry. "Tuesday, probably. They stay in Paris for a month en route; Lord Horringford wants some data from the Louvre and also to arrange some preliminaries with the French Egyptologist who is joining their party."
"Hum! And Alex--still interested in mummies?"
"More than ever, she is full of enthusiasm. She talks of dynasties and tribal deities, of kings and Kas and symbols until my head spins. Lord Horringford teases her but it is easy to see that her interest pleases him. He says she is the mascot of the expedition, that she brought luck to the digging last year."
"Alex has had many hobbies but never one that ran for two seasons," said Miss Craven thoughtfully; "I am glad she has found an interest at last that promises to be permanent."
Gillian gathered the furs closer in her arms and made a few steps toward the door. "She has found more than that," she said softly, and the colour flamed in her sensitive face. Miss Craven nodded. "You mean that in unearthing the buried treasure of a dead past she has found the living treasure of a man's love? Yes, and not any too soon, poor silly child. Men like Horringford don't bear playing with. I wonder whether she knows how near she has been to making shipwreck of her life."
"I think she knows--now," said Gillian, with a little wise smile as she left the room.
The sound of her soft contralto singing an old French nursery rhyme echoed faintly back to the library: "Mon père m'a donné un petit mari, Mon Dieu, quel homme!"
And, listening, Miss Craven smiled half-sadly, for the quaint words carried her back to the days of her own childhood. But the exigencies of the present thrust aside past memories. She sat on, wrapped in her thoughts until the dropping temperature of the room sent through her a sudden chill, so she rose with a shiver and a startled glance at her watch.
"Dry bones and love," she said musingly, "it's a curious combination! Peter, my man, you gave wise advice there.... But not all your wisdom can help my trouble."