The Sheik

Sir Aubrey's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Then I hope to Heaven that one

day you will fall into the hands of a man who will make you obey," he

cried wrathfully.

Her scornful mouth curled still more scornfully. "Then Heaven help

him!" she retorted scathingly, and turned away to her tent.

But, alone, her anger gave way to amusement. It had been something,

after all, to rouse the lazy Aubrey to wrath. She knew exactly the

grievance he had been nursing against her during the last few weeks in

Biskra. Though he travelled perpetually and often in remote and

desolate places, he travelled with the acme of comfort and the minimum

of inconveniences. He put himself out for nothing, and the inevitable

difficulties that accrued fell on Diana's younger and less blase

shoulders. She had always known the uses he put her to and the

convenience she was to him. He might have some latent feelings with

regard to the inadvisability of her behavior, he might even have some

prickings of conscience on the subject of his upbringing of her, but it

was thoughts of his own comfort that were troubling him most. That she

knew, and the knowledge was not conducive to any kinder feeling towards

him. He always had been and always would be supremely selfish.

The whole of their life together had been conducted to suit his

conveniences and not hers. She knew, too, why her company was

particularly desired on his visit to America. It was a hunting trip,

but not the kind that they were usually accustomed to: it was a wife

and not big game that was taking Sir Aubrey across the ocean on this

occasion. It had been in his mind for some time as an inevitable and

somewhat unpleasant necessity. Women bored him, and the idea of

marriage was distasteful, but a son to succeed him was imperative--a

Mayo must be followed by a Mayo. An heir was essential for the big

property that the family had held for hundreds of years. No woman had

ever attracted him, but of all women he had met American women were

less actively irritating to him, and so it was to America that he

turned in search of a wife. He proposed to take a house in New York for

a few months and later on in Newport, and it was for that that Diana's

company was considered indispensable. She would save him endless

trouble, as all arrangements could be left in her hands and Stephens'.

Having made up his mind to go through with a proceeding that he

regarded in the light of a sacrifice on the family altar, his wish was

to get it over and done with as soon as possible, and Diana's

interference in his plans had exasperated him. It was the first time

that their wills had crossed, and she shrugged her shoulders

impatiently, with a grimace at the recollection. A little more and it

would have degenerated into a vulgar quarrel. She banished Aubrey and

his selfishness resolutely from her mind. It was very hot, and she lay

very still in the narrow cot, wishing she had not been so rigid in the

matter of its width, and wondering if a sudden movement in the night

would precipitate her into the bath that stood alongside. She thought

regretfully of a punkah, and then smiled derisively at herself.