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"He that has patience may compass anything." Ben Kelham sat near the balustrade on the verandah of Shepheard's Hotel just after breakfast, pretending to read the morning paper, whilst trying to make up his mind.

We all got up too early and hadn't had enough breakfast that is why we disliked the place so much." They stayed some days, and then took the public steamer home, Damaris bubbling over with high infectious spirits, which had their birth in a secret hope that she might find a letter from Ben Kelham upon her return.

Zulannah was dirty; her hands were ill-kempt; her fine muslin veils filthy and torn; but there still hung about her the faint odour of the perfume she had always used in the hey-day of her success. The passing of a barrow piled high with luggage disturbed her veils, and as the rush of some excited natives disturbed the air Ben Kelham swung around.

Sherry E. Fry's work, in a less rugged vein, appears upon Festival Hall. The gay and gracefully ethereal towers on corner pavilions at the entrance to the Court of Palms and the Court of Flowers, sometimes called The Kelham Towers for their architect, are pointed by a long and pleasing slope of wings. Carl Gruppe's slender Fairy stands upon them, poised, as though just alighted.

One day he will forget to shoot his linen, and you will catch a glimpse of the mark of the beast. And in the second of time which it took this little analysis of his friend to flash across his mind the hands of Life moved slowly towards the hour. He put his hand to his turban, then stood on one side. "Come in, Kelham. Who ever would have thought of seeing you!

Four smaller towers, two on either side of large tower, by George W. Kelham, of San Francisco; Italian Renaissance. Sand on walks, selected by Jules Guerin for its pink color to harmonize with color scheme. Binds together buildings, its pink harmonizing with pink of walls. Grains of sand in walks translucent. Flag poles, ornamented with gilt star, by Faville. Orange-colored streamers by Guerin.

You will learn many things before you reach home, and amongst them how to loosen the straps which gall your shoulders. Big Ben Kelham walked slowly, with his eyes upon the faint track of little feet which had moved in a circle, and not once did he look behind, else would he have seen the smoke of the burning tents.

"Two's company," and turned to walk stubbornly and heavily, back across those many, many deserts to the tents. Ben Kelham cheered him on as they thundered past him. "We'll wait for you, old fellow," he cried, then looked down on the woman he loved. Her hands were clasped upon the silken bodice where she had pinned the brooch which had been fashioned in the shape of the Hawk of Egypt.

Then the picture faded, to give place to another in which she saw herself sitting in the moonlight beside Ben Kelham; the honest, slow, lovable man standing at that very moment a grim picture of despair, divided only by a curtain from her, through whom, indirectly, he had killed his friend. What was she saying to him in this dream-picture?

Horrified, she heard the voice of Ben Kelham; like a statue of fear she stood, with her ear close to the curtain, for the half of an hour, the thirty short minutes in which she came to understand at last, clearly, definitely, that there was only one man in the world for her, and that was the Englishman who sat with clenched hands under the lash of his friend's words; and her hand trembled so that the curtain shook as though blown by the night-wind as she held it back just wide enough to look through without being seen; and her eyes were soft with gratitude when she understood the greatness of the sacrifice the man of the East had laid on the altar of his honour and his friendship and his love.