There was something in his voice that made her reckless, that made her
want to hurt him. "If you give no love to the--the women whom you bring
here, do you give love to the women of your harem? You have a harem, I
suppose, somewhere?" she braved him with curling lip and scornful
voice, but as she spoke she knew that she had only hurt herself and her
voice faltered.

His hand reached out suddenly and he dragged her down into his arms
again with a laugh. "And if I have, are you jealous? What if the nights
I spent away from you were passed in my harem--what then?"

"Then may Allah put it into the heart of one of your wives to poison
you so that you never come back," she said fiercely.

"Allah! So beautiful and so bloodthirsty," he said in bantering
reproof. Then he turned her face up to his, smiling into her angry eyes
with amusement. "I have no harem and, thanks be to Allah, no wives,
_cherie._ Does that please you?"

"Why should I care? It is nothing to me," she replied sharply, with a
vivid blush.

He held her closer, looking deeply into her eyes, holding them as he
could when he liked, in spite of her efforts to turn them away--a
mesmerism she could not resist.

"Shall I make you care? Shall I make you love me? I can make women love
me when I choose."