“So she came here, did she?  Did she frighten you? attempt to hurt you?”

“Oh, no,” returned Saidie; “not at all.  Naturally she is very hurt, very sorry; no wonder she longs after the Sahib, and wishes to be taken back to his harem.  I was very sorry for her.  It is quite natural she should be jealous, of course,” and Saidie rested one soft, silken skinned elbow on the table and leaned across the flowers, and her half-filled wine-glass, looking with tender liquid eyes earnestly at the face of her lord.

“The Sahib is so wonderful, so beautiful, so far above other men,” she murmured, gazing upon him.  “It is no wonder she is unhappy.”

Hamilton smiled a little, looking back at her.  He had indeed a singularly handsome face, with its straight, noble features and warm colour, and as he smiled the breast of the Eastern girl heaved; her heart seemed to rush out to him.

“Ah, Saidie! you do not understand English wives,” he said gently, with a curious melancholy in his voice.  “Love and worship such as you give me they think shameful and shocking.  To love a man for himself, for his face, for his body is degrading.  They are so pure, they love him only for his purse.  They tell him to take his passion to dancing-girls like you.  They hate to bear him children.  They like to live in his house, be clothed at his expense, ride in his carriage, but they care little to sleep in his arms.”

Saidie regarded him steadfastly, with eyes ever growing wider as she listened.

“I do not understand ...” she murmured at last, clasping both soft, supple hands across her breast, as if trying to mould herself into this new belief; “it is so hard to comprehend....  Surely it must be right to love one’s lord, to bear him sons, to please him, to make him happy every hour, every minute of the day and night.”

“Right?” returned Hamilton passionately, getting up from his seat and coming over to her.  “Of course it is right! love such as yours is a divine gift to man, straight from the hands of God.”  He leaned his burning hands heavily on the delicately-moulded shoulders, looking down into her upturned face.  How exquisite it was! its fine straight nose, its marvellously-carved mouth and short upper lip, its round, full chin, and midnight eyes beneath their great arching, sweeping brows!

“That woman is a fiend, one of the unnatural creatures our wretched European civilisation has made only to destroy the lives of men.  Don’t let us speak of her! never let us think of her!  She is nothing to me.  You are my world, my all.  If she drives us away from here, there are other parts of the world for us.  Separate us she never shall.  Come! why should we waste our time even mentioning her name.  Come with me into our garden.  Darling! darling!”

He stooped over her, and on her lips pressed those kisses so long refused, uncared for by one woman, so priceless to this one, and almost lifted Saidie from the chair.  She laughed the sweet low laughter of the Oriental woman, and went with him eagerly towards the verandah, and out into the compound where the roses slept in the warm silver light.