The Sheik

Even if desire had passed and indifference had become so great

that she was no longer necessary to him, still the Oriental jealousy

with which he was so deeply imbued would never allow him to let her

pass so lightly from his keeping. He might discard her at his own

pleasure, but no one would take her from him with impunity. Her woman's

intuition had sensed the jealousy that had actuated him during the

unhappy days since Saint Hubert had come. An inconsistent jealousy that

had been unprovoked and unjustified, but for which she had suffered.

She had known last night, when she winced under his sarcastic tongue,

and later, when Saint Hubert had left them and his temper had suddenly

boiled over, that she was paying for the unaccustomed strain that he

was putting on his own feelings. His curses had eaten into her heart,

and she had fled from him to stifle the coward instinct that urged her

to confess her love and beg his mercy. She had lain awake with

shivering apprehension waiting for him, but when, after nearly two

hours, he had sauntered in, the usual cigarette between his lips,

indifference had taken the place of rage, and he had ignored her, as

she had grown used to being ignored. And long after she knew from his

even breathing that he was asleep she had lain wide-eyed beside him,

grasping at what happiness she could, living for the moment as she had

schooled herself to live, trying to be content with just the fact of

his nearness. A

nd the indifference of the night had been maintained

when he had left her at dawn, his persistent silence pointing the

continuance of his displeasure. But he would come, if for no other

reason than the same jealousy which held him in its inexorable grip. He

would come! He would come! She whispered it over to herself as if

merely the sound of the words gave her courage. He would not let

anything happen to her. Every moment that Ibraheim Omair stayed away

was so much gained, every moment he would be coming nearer. The

reversal of the role he played in her life brought a quivering smile to

her lips. For the advent of the man who a few weeks before she had

loathed for his brutal abduction of herself she now prayed with the

desperation of despair. He represented safety, salvation, everything

that made life worth living.

A sudden noise and men's voices in the adjoining room sent her to her

feet with heaving breast and clenched hands. But the sharp, guttural

voice predominating over the other voices killed the wild hope that had

sprung up in her by its utter dissimilarity to the soft low tones for

which she longed. Ibraheim Omair! He had come first! She set her teeth

with a long, shuddering breath, bracing herself to meet what was

coming.