Already, she had been there for a period
which she was far too indolent to strive to compute--a week, perhaps.
She turned her attention to the parrakeets. One of them was moving,
and she noted with delight that it had perceived her far below and was
endeavoring to draw the attention of its less observant companion to
her presence. For many hours she lay watching it and wondering why,
since the one bird was so singularly intelligent, its companion was
equally dull. When she lowered her eyes and looked out again across
the sands, the figure had approached so close as to be recognizable.
It was that of Mrs. Sin. Rita appreciated the fitness of her presence,
and experienced no surprise, only a mild curiosity. This curiosity was
not concerned with Mrs. Sin herself, but with the nature of the burden
which she bore upon her head.
She was dressed in a manner which Rita dreamily thought would have
been inadequate in England, or even in Cuba, but which was appropriate
in the Great Sahara. How exquisitely she carried herself, mused the
dreamer; no doubt this fine carriage was due in part to her wearing
golden shoes with heels like stilts, and in part to her having been
trained to bear heavy burdens upon her head. Rita remembered that Sir
Lucien had once described to her the elegant deportment of the Arab
women, ascribing it to their custom of carrying water-jars in that
way.
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