her voice.

He frowned in quick annoyance at her tone. "Why not?" he said
haughtily.

"No reason," she murmured, sinking down among the cushions again and
picking up the magazine from the floor. The advent of a stranger--a
European--was a shock, but she felt that the Sheik's eyes were on her
and she determined to show no feeling in his presence. "What time will
you be ready to ride?" she asked indifferently, with a simulated yawn,
flirting over the pages.

"I can't ride with you to-day. I am going to meet Saint Hubert. His
courier only came an hour ago. It is two years since I have seen him."

Diana slipped off the couch and went to the open doorway. A detachment
of men were already waiting for him, and, close by the tent, Shaitan of
the ugly temper was biting and fidgeting in the hands of the grooms.
She scowled at the beautiful, wicked creature's flat-laid ears and
rolling eyes. She would have backed him fearlessly herself if the Sheik
had let her, but she was nervous for him every time he rode the vicious
beast. No one but the Sheik could manage him, and though she knew that
he had perfect mastery over the horse, she never lost the feeling of
nervousness, a sensation the old Diana had never, never experienced,
and she wished to-day that it had been any other horse but Shaitan
waiting for him.

She went back to him slowly. "It makes my head ache, to stay in all
day. May Gaston not ride with me?" she asked diffidently, her eyes
anywhere but on his face. He had not allowed her to ride with any one