Even if desire had passed and indifference had become so great
that she was no longer necessary to him, still the Oriental jealousy
with which he was so deeply imbued would never allow him to let her
pass so lightly from his keeping. He might discard her at his own
pleasure, but no one would take her from him with impunity. Her woman's
intuition had sensed the jealousy that had actuated him during the
unhappy days since Saint Hubert had come. An inconsistent jealousy that
had been unprovoked and unjustified, but for which she had suffered.
She had known last night, when she winced under his sarcastic tongue,
and later, when Saint Hubert had left them and his temper had suddenly
boiled over, that she was paying for the unaccustomed strain that he
was putting on his own feelings. His curses had eaten into her heart,
and she had fled from him to stifle the coward instinct that urged her
to confess her love and beg his mercy. She had lain awake with
shivering apprehension waiting for him, but when, after nearly two
hours, he had sauntered in, the usual cigarette between his lips,
indifference had taken the place of rage, and he had ignored her, as
she had grown used to being ignored. And long after she knew from his
even breathing that he was asleep she had lain wide-eyed beside him,
grasping at what happiness she could, living for the moment as she had
schooled herself to live, trying to be content with just the fact of
his nearness. A
nd the indifference of the night had been maintained
when he had left her at dawn, his persistent silence pointing the
continuance of his displeasure. But he would come, if for no other
reason than the same jealousy which held him in its inexorable grip. He
would come! He would come! She whispered it over to herself as if
merely the sound of the words gave her courage. He would not let
anything happen to her. Every moment that Ibraheim Omair stayed away
was so much gained, every moment he would be coming nearer. The
reversal of the role he played in her life brought a quivering smile to
her lips. For the advent of the man who a few weeks before she had
loathed for his brutal abduction of herself she now prayed with the
desperation of despair. He represented safety, salvation, everything
that made life worth living.
A sudden noise and men's voices in the adjoining room sent her to her
feet with heaving breast and clenched hands. But the sharp, guttural
voice predominating over the other voices killed the wild hope that had
sprung up in her by its utter dissimilarity to the soft low tones for
which she longed. Ibraheim Omair! He had come first! She set her teeth
with a long, shuddering breath, bracing herself to meet what was
coming.