She did
not even notice that she had made a slip. She was too engrossed in
Durrance's story. Durrance himself, however, was not less preoccupied,
and so the statement passed for the moment unobserved by either.
"So you never knew what brought Mr. Feversham to Halfa?" she asked. "Did
you not ask him? Why didn't you? Why?"
She was disappointed, and the bitterness of her disappointment gave
passion to her cry. Here was the last news of Harry Feversham, and it
was brought to her incomplete, like the half sheet of a letter. The
omission might never be repaired.
"I was a fool," said Durrance. There was almost as much regret in his
voice now as there had been in hers; and because of that regret he did
not remark the passion with which she had spoken. "I shall not easily
forgive myself. He was my friend, you see. I had him by the arm, and I
let him go. I was a fool." And he knocked upon his forehead with his
fist.
"He tried Arabic," Durrance resumed, "pleading that he and his
companions were just poor peaceable people, that if I had given him too
much money, I should take it back, and all the while he dragged away
from me. But I held him fast. I said, 'Harry Feversham, that won't do,'
and upon that he gave in and spoke in English, whispering it.
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