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Show life, the consuming passion, as of the Jives of so many Arabs, precedence of all things, even of the pursuit of money. There was a woman to be conquered. She had nearly been conquered. So he told himself. Was she to escape now because of one contretemps brought about by the Jack of ingenuity of the fool Achmed? His hot blood boiled at the thought. As he came to the Judas-trees he did not see Lady Wyverne upon the veranda. The persiennes and the window of her room were open. He fancied he discerned a shadowy figure beyond them, and believed her to be there, perhaps watching for his return. He wondered whether she wished to meet or to avoid him. With difficulty he summoned patience to him. He knew it was quite useless to try to speak with her for some hours, and he went to his room and •o6 shut himself in till the bell rang for dinner. Then he came down majestically, in his wide linen trousers, his red jacket, his red gaiters, newly perfumed, his long eyes shining beneath his turban. When he entered the dining-room it was occupied only by a young French couple, a painter and his wife, who had arrived that afternoon, and who stared at him with an interest which he did not return; although he bowed to them in the French manner as he came in, and sat down at his little table, placing himself so that he would be sitting sideways to Lady Wyverne if she came. But perhaps she would not come. 1/~ He had hardly formed the words/"7 / with his mind before he heard a gentle';/ rustling upon the staircase, and shef d. entered, carrying a book in her hand. Each evening hitherto she had worn a high white dress and a little black |