There was a King in Egypt. Norma Lorimer
He must be himself, he must work from the inside."
"You are doing good work here."
"Not my work—another's."
"I can't advise. I know you must judge."
"It means leaving this valley if I do it."
"Oh," Meg said, "not yet? Not until the tomb is opened, anyhow?"
"No," he said, "I'll wait for that. I want to see Ireton—I'm going to see him to-morrow when I go to Luxor for Freddy."
"Are you going?" she said. "I didn't know."
"Yes," he said. "He wants a lot done and he can't leave the dig."
"No, he can't." Meg paused; in her heart a fear had suddenly leapt up. The soft, delicately-tinted woman on the balcony at Assuan stood out before her as plainly as the luminous figure of Akhnaton had done. She was at Luxor! Two letters had arrived from Luxor for Mike in a woman's handwriting.
"I will see Michael Ireton," he repeated. "His work is magnificent; so is his wife's. His work is amongst the men."
"In their settlements, you mean?"
"Yes, amongst the Copts, most particularly."
"It will be sad to break up our trio," she said. "We are so happy." She held out her hand. "Good-night. I was to help, not to retard—I must remember my dream."
"Good-night." Mike grasped her hand. "You are part of the light.
Keep close to me when I am in Luxor tomorrow."
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