r."

"Ah, I know! Was I not in England and did I not hear men talk--yes,
of sisters and wives with bold words and laughter? Not so of our
ladies--they are sacred names not to be spoken by another.... But I
do not wish to speak of these others of your race. I speak of you."

"Really, I would rather you would not speak of me."

"But I wish to tell you." His voice was no louder; it was even
lower, but it took on a note of authority. Arlee was silent, a chill
creeping up about her heart--like a rising tide....

"You are a flower upon a height," he said, and his tones were soft
again and gently caressing, "laughing at others because you know you
are so high above them, and so proud. The blue of the skies is in
your eyes, and the gold of the sun in your hair. You have a beauty
that is too bright to be endured--it burns a man's heart like a
flame.... It was never meant to shine in a common field. It must be
guarded, revered, adored--a princess upon a height----"

"You have an Oriental imagination," said Arlee Beecher, and prayed
God her voice did not tremble. "I must ask you not to pay me such
compliments while I am your guest."

"No?... Why not?"

"They--are embarrassing."

"Embarrassment is an emotion rare to find among your ladies--it is
the dewy bloom upon your own perfect innocence.... Ah, I wish you
spoke my language! I could tell you many things----"

"Your English is excellent," said the white-faced girl. "Did you
learn it at Oxford or before?"

He did not pause for such foolish questionings. "Why do you not wish
me to tell you what you are?" he said reproachfully. "Is it because
you doubt that I mean it?"

"Because I am not used to such compliments--and I would rather not
hear them now. I am your guest and I am very tired. I must go in."

It was very dark in the garden. And it was still and unutterably
lonely. Only the stars burned above them in the heavens; only the
light wind of the desert stirred. From the far distance the muffled
beat of the tom-tom sounded. Surely, thought Arlee, surely she was
dreaming...