irritability she longed to smash something, and, with an impetuous
hand, sent the little inlaid table with the tray and coffee-cups
flying. She was ashamed of the impulse even before the crash came, and
looked at Gaston clearing up the debris with anxious eyes. What was the
matter with her? The even temper on which she prided herself and the
nerves that had been her boast had vanished, gone by the board in the
last month. If her nerve failed her utterly what would become of her?
What would she do?

Gaston had gone, and she looked around the tent with a hunted
expression. There seemed no escape possible from the misery that was
almost more than she could bear.

There was a way out that had been in her mind often, and she had
searched frequently in the hope that she might find the means. But the
Sheik had also thought and had taken precautions. One day it seemed as
if her desperate wish might be fulfilled, and she had had only a
moment's hesitation as she stretched out her hand to take the revolver
that had been left lying on a table, but as her fingers closed on the
butt a muscular hand closed over hers. He had come in with his usual
silent step and was close to her without her knowing. He had taken the
weapon from her quietly, holding her eyes with his own, and had jerked
it open, showing the empty magazine. "Do you think that I am quite a
fool?" he had asked without a trace of expression in his voice.

And since then she had been under a ceaseless, unobtrusive surveillance
that had left her no chance of carrying out her terrible resolve. She
buried her face in her hands. "Oh, my God! Is it never going to end? Am
I never going to get away from him?"