'I reckon these are our passports,' and I pointed to the envelope.
She picked it up, opened it, and then tore it in pieces and tossed it in the fire.
'The orders are countermanded,' she said.

'I have need of you and you go with me.

Not to the flats of the Tigris, but to the great hills.
Tomorrow you will receive new passports.' She gave me her hand and turned to go.

At the threshold she paused, and looked towards the oak cupboard.

'Tomorrow I will relieve you of your prisoner.