It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. I’m in a mess—a nasty mess! a filthy mess! Oh, no end of a mess! “Do you hear, Ann Veronica?—you’re in a nasty, filthy, unforgivable mess! “Haven’t I just made a silly mess of things? “Forty pounds! I haven’t got twenty!” She got up, stamped with her foot, and then, suddenly remembering the lodger below, sat down and wrenched off her boots. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. “You are very good,” she said. The latter began to heave himself up from the sand. He had very nearly cleared the board, when a knock was heard below, and descending at the summons, he found his two janizaries.
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