Edgar Jepson,
The Tinder and the Spark
(1918)
“ That night, as we were drinking our coffee after dinner, he said: “I’m going to show you my first great find to-morrow—my Hathor.” “Hathor? A goddess, wasn’t she?” said Sheila. “Ruler of the West, Lady of Heaven, and Queen of the Dead,” he said—almost chanted, in fact—in a devout tone. “I found her myself,” he went on, “in the temple against the side of that little hill—it isn’t much more than a hillock—to the south of the camp. We’d dug down to the face of the temple from the top, and it was a job, for the sand drift was fifteen hundred years old or more. ”
