noon
... Far , far in the African desert she followed the march of Warkworth 's little troop . Ah , the blinding light -- the African scrub and sand -- the long , single line -- the native porters with their loads -- the handful of English officers with that slender figure at their head -- the endless , waterless path with its palms and mangoes and mimosas -- the scene rushed upon the inward eye and held it . She felt the heat , the thirst , the weariness of bone and brain -- all the spell and mystery of the unmapped , unconquered land . Did he think of her sometimes , at night , under the stars , or in the blaze and mirage of noon ? Yes , yes ; he thought of her . Each to the other their thoughts must travel while they lived . In Delafield 's eyes , she knew , his love for her had been mere outrage and offence .