"Is your tobacco drugged with hasheesh,
Ban?"
He shook his head. "It's the pull of the desert," he murmured. "It's
caught you sooner than most. You're more responsive, I suppose; more
sens--Why, Butterfly! You're shaking."
"A Scotchman would say that I was 'fey.' Ban, do you think it means that
I'm coming back here to die?" She laughed again. "If I were fated to die
here, I expect that I missed my good chance in the smash-up. Fortunately
I'm not superstitious."
"There might be worse places," said he slowly. "It is the place that
would call me back if ever I got down and out." He pointed through the
window to the distant, glowing purity of the mountain peak. "One could
tell one's troubles to that tranquil old god."
"Would he listen to mine, I wonder?"
"Try him before you go. You can leave them all here and I'll watch over
them for you to see that they don't get loose and bother you."
"Absolution! If it were only as easy as that! This _is_ a haunted
place.... Why should I be here at all? _Why_ didn't I go when I should?
Why a thousand things?"
"Chance."
"Is there any such thing? Why can't I sleep at night yet, as I ought?
Why do I still feel hunted? What's happening to me, Ban? What's getting
ready to happen?"
"Nothing.
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