The Washington times., 1922-06-13
Copyright 1891. BY Small. Maynard
q Co.. 1no)
Installment XXI.
By +. NJ. HULL.
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Her petit leJeuner, cup Oh
coffee poised in one hand and
her bright head bent over a
brown boot drawn up under her.
and the other swinging idly against
the side Of the divan. She finish.
ed her coffee hastily. ana, light
ing a cigarette. leaned back with
a sigh of content over the maga-
zine.
Two months had slipped away
since her mad flight. since her
dash for freedom that had ended
in tragedy for the beautifu! Silver
Star and SO Unexpectedly for her.
self. Weeks of vivid happiness
that had been mixed with poign.
ant suffering. for the perfect JOY
of being with him was marred by
the passionate longing for his love.
Even her surroundings had taken
on new aspect, her happiness
colored everything. The Eastern
luxury Of the tent and its appoint.
ments no longer seemed theatrical.
but the natural setting Of the e
nificent specimen Of manhood who
surrounded himself by all the dis.
play dear 10 the heart Of the ma
tive. How much was for his own
pleasure and how much was for
the sake Of his followers she had
never been able to determine. The
beauties and attractions Of the
desert had multiplied n hundred
times. The wild tribesmen. with
their primitive ways and savagery,
had eased to disgust her. and
the free NE with It's con.
stant exercise and sinpl, rou-
tine was becoming indefinitely
dear to her. The camp had
been moved several times-always
toward the southland each change
had been a source of greater in.
terest.
And since the night that he had
carried her back in triumph he
had been kind to her-kind beyond
anything that she had expected.
He had never made any reference
TO her fight or TO the death OF the
horse that he mad valued so highly;
in that he. had been generous. The
episode over. he wished no further
allusion TO 1t. But there was moth.
ing beyond kindness. The passion
that smoldered in his dark eyes
often was not the love she craved.
II was only the desire that her un-
common type and her utter dis.
similarity from all the other wom-
en- who had passed through his
hands had awakened In him. The
perpetual remembrance OF those
other women brought her a con-
stant burning shame that grew
stronger every day. a shame that
was only less strong than her ar
dent love, and a wild jealousy that
tortured her with doubts and fears,
an ever.present demon of sugges-
ton reminding her Of the past,
when it was not she who lay in his
arms. nor her lips that received
his kisses. The knowledge that the
embraces she painted for had been
shared by les autres was an open
wound that would not heal. She
tried to shut her mind to the past
She knew that she was a fool to
expect the abstinence OF a monk in
the strong. vlrile desert man. And
she was afraid for the, future. She
wanted him for herself alone,
wanted his undivided love. and
that he was an Arab with Oriental
instincts filled her with continual
dread, dread OF the real future
about which she never dared to
think. dread of the passing Of his
transient desire. She loved him SO
possionately, so completely, that
beyond him was nothing. He was
all the world. She gave herself to
him gladly, triumphantly. as she
would give her life for him If need
be. But she had schooled herself
to hide her love, to yield apathetic-
ally to his caresses. and to conceal
the longing that possessed her.
She was afraid that the knowledge
that she loved him would bring
about the disaster she dreaded.
The words that he had once used
remained continually in her mind:
"If you loved me you would bore
me, and ! should have to let you
60" And she hid her love closely
In her heart. 1t was difficult, and
It hurt her to hide 1t from him and
to assume indifference. 1t was diff.
ficult to remember that she must
make q show Of reluctance when
she was longing to give unreserv.
edly. She dropped the end Of the
cigarette kissing into the dregs OF
the coffee and turned a page. and.