CHAPTER XVIII

THE PASSION IN THE DESERT Once more it was evening. Another day of journeying across the dry, arid plain under a burning sun was over. Once more the night was before them; the night with its vague terrors and forced inaction. They made their little preparations with scant exchange of words—there was so little to be said that did not savour of despair. When the time came for setting out their evening meal, Myra spread on the ground before them the slender remains of their little stock, and pointed to it with tears i…