” “What?” He asked. 270 “Curse that boy!” He chuckled and stomped the water. It is a precaution merely. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape.
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