The delicate crackling from the heated bed of coals was all that was heard in the sheltered wady roofed with skins.
For the second time within the past few hours, Laodice had met a Christian.

Both had helped her; both had blessed her.

And one was an old man and one was a child.
The interest of the recent interview and the excitement of the night slowly died away, leaving Laodice in the dead hopelessness of weary despair.

She lay down suddenly with her face against the warmed sand and wept.

Momus sat down beside her, covered her with a leopard skin taken from his own swarthy shoulders, and soothed her with awkward touches on cheek and hair, till her tears exhausted her and she slept.
Stealthily then the old man rolled up her own mantle and put it under her head and prepared to watch.