deaden her feelings and blunt her capacity for suffering. She looked at
Gaston with hard eyes when he came in. He had approved of what the
Sheik had done, would have done it himself if he had been able. They
were all alike.

"The man who was hurt first," she asked abruptly, with a touch of her
old hauteur in her voice, "is he dead?"

"Oh no, Madame. He has concussion but he will be all right. They have
hard heads, these Arabs."

"And Yusef?"

Gaston grinned. "_Le petit_ Sheik has a broken collar-bone. It is
nothing. A few days' holiday to be petted in his harem, _et
voila_!"

"His harem?" echoed Diana in surprise. "Is he married?"

"_Mais oui_, Madame. He has two wives."

At Diana's exclamation he shrugged deprecatingly. "_Que
voulez-vous?_ It is the custom of the country," he said tolerantly,
with the air of conceding a melancholy fact with the best grace
possible.

The customs of the country was dangerous ground, and Diana changed the
subject hastily. "Where did you learn to ride, Gaston?"

"In a racing-stable at Auteuil, Madame, when I was a boy. Then I was