Michael handed her the sardines. How could he just rest and be content?

If he did, he would allow himself to drift into the woman's mood, he would be enjoying himself at the cost of his loyalty to Margaret. He would be drowning "the clear voice" with Moselle cup and smothering it with galantine of chicken and pigeon-pie.

"I want you to promise me," Millicent said, "just to eat this one meal happily with me, eat and forget. For half an hour or more don't ask me any questions and don't scold!" She handed Michael an olive in her fingers. "Open," she said. "They're so good."

Michael opened his mouth, but he took the olive from her fingers into his own.

"Will you do what I ask?" she said. "If you will, I'll promise to listen to you afterwards. Your conscience is an awful bore, Michael."

"I'm an awful bore apart from my conscience. It's simply your impish persistence that makes you desire my society. It can't be anything else."

"Perhaps it is," Millicent said. "All the same, will you promise?"

"Very well," Michael said. "That's a bargain. I promise."

"For this one meal you'll be like you used to be?"

"What was that?" he asked. Her words annoyed him.

"Mine," she said. "Mine and not Margaret Lampton's."

Michael put down his knife and fork and looked straight into the eyes of the woman opposite him.

"I am Margaret Lampton's," he said, "and you'd better know it. I'm Margaret Lampton's, body and soul." He flung her hand away.

Millicent gave a suggestive whistle. "Wh-o-o!" she said, with a low laugh. "So that's it?"

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Nothing--I didn't say anything, did I? Oh, don't let's quarrel--let's enjoy our lunch."

"Very well," he said. "Let's, for time's flying. But it's best for you to know that I'm Margaret's."

"Never mind--lend yourself to me for a few days. Surely she won't mind if we amuse ourselves in the desert?"

"I'm not going to lend myself to you," he said. "What nonsense you talk!

You're going back the way you came. You can play with someone else."

"You dear silly, you can't make me!" Millicent laughed at the idea.

"Besides, you know you want me all the time, and you've just promised to enjoy this jolly little meal and to lecture me afterwards. I'm not going to be unhappy because you belong to Margaret Lampton."

"So long as you know I do," he said, "I feel I can eat your excellent lunch."

"And if Margaret doesn't know, what can it matter?"

"Oh, Millicent!"

"You know, Mike, it's what's found out that matters. If you enjoy yourself and make me happy for two or three days in the desert and Margaret never knows, what harm could it do?"

"If you can't see the harm for yourself," he said, "I can't show it to you."

"Well, I can't," she said. "But let's talk of something else. Margaret is taboo--she's spoilt half our lunch."

"First tell me how you got here, how you knew of my movements. I spoke of them to no one."

"No, no, that also is taboo--until after lunch."

"What can we talk about?"

Millicent looked at him. Her eyes suggested another topic--themselves.

"Is that taboo as well!" she said, as Michael's eyes dropped under hers.

"Absolutely," he said.

"Happy idea!" she cried. "The tomb! If we mayn't talk of Margaret or of our two selves or of how I got here, or of whence I came or whither you are going, surely a tomb is a safe topic?"

"Yes," Michael said, "if any topic is safe with you."

"Ah," Millicent said. "That's the nicest thing you've said."

"I didn't mean to be nice. What's nice in that?"

"But you were nice, awfully nice. If there are so many danger-zones to be avoided between us, you don't feel very safe, very sure of yourself.

That's triumph number one for Millicent; Margaret's lost one point already."

"I thought Margaret was taboo?"

"Oh, so she was--I beg her pardon!" She sighed. "'One word is too often profaned for me to profane it,' etc." She put her elbows on the table.

"Oh, Mike, aren't you an odd darling? I do love teasing you. If you weren't so easily ragged, I wouldn't."

"Do go on with your lunch," he said. "And don't chatter so much. We only have a certain amount of time for lunch and digestion. This pie's delicious."

"Where are we going? When do we go on?" Millicent was not oblivious of the fact that he spoke of their going on as an accepted fact.

"So you don't know? You haven't found out everything?"

"No, I knew enough to bring me to you. That was all I wanted. You can tell me the rest."

Michael was silent.

"My dear man, you needn't tell me if you don't want to, but remember that no secrets are hid from the hand that hath _baksheesh_. I found out what I wanted to know; I can find out more."

"I'd rather you found out," he said, "than I told you."

"Right ho! Funny man!"

"Do you want to hear about the tomb, or don't you?"

"Oh, yes, rather!" Millicent's teeth were busy picking the leg of a pigeon. "Tell me everything."