have been, and flowed in its thick, black glossy waves to her
waist.

Hamilton bent over her and raised her in his arms, feeling in that
moment, though the whole universe were reeling and rocking round
him to its ruin, he would care nothing while he pressed that soft
breast to his.

The old woman sat down cross-legged by the charcoal, and began to
fan it.

The other girl behind the chick looked out curiously, but her eyes
never noted the strength and beauty of Hamilton's figure, nor the
bright glow in the oval cheek: she looked to see if he wore rings
on his fingers, and tried to catch sight of the links in his cuffs
to see if they were silver or gold.

Saidie had the divine gift of passion: all the fire of the gods in
her veins. Zenobie had none, and Saidie's joy now was something she
could not understand.

"Have you come to take me away, now at once?" Saidie murmured in a
soft, passionate whisper close to his ear, and the accent of joy
and delight went quivering down through the deepest recesses of the
man's being.

"Yes: are you ready to come with me?" Needless question! put only
for the supreme pleasure of listening to its answer.

"Oh, more than ready," whispered the soft voice back. "How shall