against the sunset of your hair."

He had never spoken like that to her before, or used that tone of
voice. His methods had been more fierce than tender. She glanced up
swiftly at his face, but it baffled her. There was no love in his eyes
or even desire, nothing but an unusual gentleness. "Perhaps you would
prefer the diamonds and the pearls," he went on, pointing disdainfully
at the box.

"No, no. I hate them! I hate them all! I will not wear your jewels. You
have no right to think that I am that kind of woman," she cried
hysterically.

"You do not like them? _Bon Dieu!_ None of the other women ever
refused them. On the contrary, they could never get enough," he said
with a laugh.

Diana looked up with a startled glance, a look of horror dawning in her
eyes. "Other women?" she repeated blankly.

"You didn't suppose you were the first, did you?" he asked with brutal
candour. "Don't look at me like that. They were not like you, they came
to me willingly enough--too willingly. Allah! How they bored me! I
tired of them before they tired of me."

She flung her arm across her eyes with a dry sob, straining away from
him. She had never thought of that. In the purity of her mind it had
never occurred to her. She was only one of many, one of a succession of
mistresses, taken and discarded at his whim. She writhed with the shame
that filled her. "Oh, you hurt me!" she whispered very low, and then