She lived again through every moment of the past night until thought was unendurable, until she felt that she would go mad, until at last, worn out, she fell asleep. She looked at it with a growing horror in her eyes until an uncontrollable shuddering seized her and she cowered down, smothering the cry that burst from her in the soft pillows and dragging the silken coverings up around her as if their thin shelter were a protection.

The pillow beside her still bore the impress of his head. On a low, brass-topped table by the bed was the half-smoked cigarette he had had between his lips when he came to her. And everything on which her eyes rested drove home relentlessly the hideous fact of her position.

There was nothing that jarred artistically, the rich hangings all harmonised, there were no glaring incongruities such as she had seen in native palaces in India. The lavish sumptuousness of the furnishings suggested subtly an unrestrained indulgence, the whole atmosphere was voluptuous, and Diana shrank from the impression it conveyed without exactly understanding the reason. The room was a curious mixture of Oriental luxury and European comfort. She lifted her head at last and looked around her. 'I thought I was brave,' she murmured brokenly. Why had she not scorned him? Or why had she not suffered all that he had done to her in silence? It would have pleased him less than the frenzied entreaties that had only provoked the soft laugh that made her shiver each time she heard it. 'Coward! Coward!' she whispered fiercely.

She wound her arms about her knees and hid her face against them. Her courage had broken down even her pride had failed her.

She loathed herself with bitter contempt. And the recollection of her abject prayers and weeping supplications filled her with a burning shame. She had fought until the unequal struggle had left her exhausted and helpless in his arms, until her whole body was one agonised ache from the brutal hands that forced her to compliance, until her courageous spirit was crushed by the realisation of her own powerlessness, and by the strange fear that the man himself had awakened in her, which had driven her at last moaning to her knees. They had all been expended when she had grovelled at his feet imploring the mercy he had not accorded her. She looked dry-eyed, she had no tears left. She sat up slowly, her eyes shadowy with pain, looking listlessly at the luxurious appointments of the tent. One quick, fearful glance around the big room assured her that she was alone. The warm sunshine was flooding the tent when Diana awoke from the deep sleep of exhaustion that had been almost insensibility, awoke to immediate and complete remembrance.

The sheik hull