The Sheik

Arbuthnot went through the window and worked slowly round the room,

hugging the wall, evading dancers, and threading his way through groups

of chattering men and women of all nationalities. He came at last to

the raised dais on which Diana Mayo was still standing, and climbed up

the few steps to her side.

"This is luck, Miss Mayo," he said, with an assurance that he was far

from feeling. "Am I really fortunate enough to find you without a

partner?"

She turned to him slowly, with a little crease growing between her

arched eyebrows, as if his coming were inopportune and she resented the

interruption to her thoughts, and then she smiled quite frankly.

"I said I would not dance until everybody was started," she said rather

doubtfully, looking over the crowded floor.

"They are all dancing. You've done your duty nobly. Don't miss this

ripping tune," he urged persuasively.

She hesitated, tapping her programme-pencil against her teeth.

"I refused a lot of men," she said, with a grimace. Then she laughed

suddenly. "Come along, then. I am noted for my bad manners. This will

only be one extra sin."

Arbuthnot danced well, but with the girl in his arms he seemed suddenly

tongue-tied. They swung round the room several times, then halted

simultaneously beside an open window and went out into the garden of

the hotel, sitting down on a wicker seat under a gaudy Japanese hanging

lantern. The band was still playing, and for the moment the garden was

empty, lit faintly by coloured lanterns, festooned from the palm trees,

and twinkling lights outlining the winding paths.

Arbuthnot leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees.

"I think you are the most perfect dancer I have ever met," he said a

little breathlessly.

Miss Mayo looked at him seriously, without a trace of

self-consciousness.

"It is very easy to dance if you have a musical ear, and if you have

been in the habit of making your body do what you want. So few people

seem to be trained to make their limbs obey them. Mine have had to do

as they were told since I was a small child," she answered calmly.

The unexpectedness of the reply acted as a silencer on Arbuthnot for a

few minutes, and the girl beside him seemed in no hurry to break the

silence. The dance was over and the empty garden was thronged for a

little time. Then the dancers drifted back into the hotel as the band

started again.

"It's rather jolly here in the garden," Arbuthnot said tentatively. His

heart was pounding with unusual rapidity, and his eyes, that he kept

fixed on his own clasped hands, had a hungry look growing in them.