The woman’s heart leapt to battle, for in the last words, in the way her beloved son looked down upon her in the tone of his voice, she knew that, somewhere out in the world, he had received a hurt.  She knew so little of him, had only had him for such a little, little while under the influence of her love and in the shelter of her heart, and she loved him, her firstborn, with a love beyond words.  Thinking to do the best for him, and making the biggest mistake of all, beating down her beloved husband’s opposition, she had sent the boy to England, and in the subsequent eight years had only seen him twice.

“He is of the East, Woman of my Heart!  Behold, I have studied him,” had said the Sheikh, all those years ago.  “Let him be, else evil may befall him.”

But Jill, his beautiful wife, had insisted, and his love for her being beyond telling, the great Arab had submitted to her wish.

For so it had been written.

And what can be the outcome of the tragic mixing of blood?  Nothing but pain.

“Come to the roof and talk, Mother, under the stars.”

So up the marble staircase, with his arm about her waist, to the roof they went, where the silken awnings lay folded and the scented white flowers hung asleep.

They stood under the canopy of purple night studded with flashing, silvery points, as the soft winds carried to them the notes of a guitar softly thrummed in the shade of the palms.

“It is Mary, dear,” happily whispered the woman.  “She came with me to welcome you.”  And then she clasped her hands at the blaze of anger which swept the man’s face.

“Most gracious Mother, I am master of my house, and, save for your ever-esteemed, ever-desired presence, I cannot have woman set foot in it without my consent.  When I have the desire for one as wife, plaything or servant, then I will give orders.”

“But, Hugh, Mary is your sister!”

“Mary is my sister, and I do not deem it wise or seemly that she should run about the country at her own wish or whim.”

“But, Hugh,------”

“Dear, let me speak.  I saw so much of woman in Europe that the yashmak, the barku, the seclusion and modesty of the East have become dear to me above all else.  Have you forgotten, dear, the restaurants, the theatres, the parks and, Allah! the streets?  The half-stripped bodies, the craving for excitement, the wine, the nights turned into day!  Why, one has but to stretch the hand, for flowers to be laid therein; the feet trip at every step with the trap of woman’s hair; the quarry stands waiting for the arrow; there is not even the incentive of the chase, the hot pursuit, the lust of the kill.  I speak as my father’s son, and in my house I will have privacy and seclusion and seemliness.  Women shall be brought to me when I desire their presence.”  And the steeliness of the voice brought the woman up-sitting as he gave her an order cloaked in the guise of a favour begged.  “And I shall be glad if you will ask my sister to keep within the women’s quarters until I send for her.”