I HAVE FEW POSSESSIONS—ONE TRAVELING trunk, and Abdullah; much of my life was furnished by my Lady and must remain with my Lady. The baby is asleep in his basket, unaware of the turmoil around him. The government steamer docked at Luxor this morning and will leave again this afternoon, taking me and Abdullah with it. I am leaving. After months of waiting, I am leaving Luxor. I undress slowly. I fold my Egyptian clothes carefully—the clothes that my Lady ordered for me specially just last year. I have spent the past week mending and readying my English clothes—the heavy undergarments and cumbersome petticoat. I take the stays out from the bottom of my trunk and unwrap them. They are like an extra set of ribs, a compact external cage. I put them on and lace them tightly; my fingers have not forgotten what to do. Then I pull on the brown high-necked muslin dress. I find my button hook and button myself into it, prickly with heat already. My leather boots are heavy, as though caked in English mud.
