She never speaks to me.

But for me, she says, her son would have married Gertrude, and then she would have lived with her Herod, who would have been a country gentleman, not the poor outcast he is now.
Kaffar has gone back to Egypt.

He stayed in London a few days after the scene on Christmas Eve, and I gave him house-room in my old lodgings; but he tired of England, so I sent him back to Cairo.

I think he is a far better man than he was, but I am not at all sorry that he dislikes England.

He writes sometimes, but I never receive his letters without thinking of the terrible night on the Yorkshire moors--of the dark waters, the red hand, and the terrible struggle.