His cup of tea stood untasted beside him on a little Algerian table.
And she--as she looked at him her soft eyes became dim with tears.
She knew that the words which she had spoken, the words which she had repeated as they were spoken by the lady whom she had met the previous night, had awakened many memories within him.

She too had her memories.
She knew that there was a certain gratefulness in the midst of the bitterness of such memories.
That was all she knew.
And the tears continued to well up to her eyes until she was aware that he had risen from his seat and was standing in front of her.

She drew her hand across her eyes.

She saw a movement in his lips.

They were trembling, but no sound came from them.