He on his part kissed her in his usual voluptuous fashion. "Good-night,
darling!" he said lightly. "Don't lie awake for me! When I have got rid
of this old Arabian Nights sinner, I may have another smoke. But don't
get impatient! I shan't be late."

She withdrew herself from him almost with coldness. Had she ever been
impatient for his coming? She entered the tent proudly, her head high.
But the moment she was alone, reaction came. She stood with her hands
gripped together, fighting the old intolerable misgiving that even the
lulling magic all around her had never succeeded in stilling. What was
she doing in this garden of delights with a man she did not love? Had
she not entered as it were by stealth? How long would it be before her
presence was discovered and she thrust forth into the outermost darkness
in shame and bitterness of soul?

Another thought was struggling at the back of her mind, but she held it
firmly there. Never once had she suffered it to take full possession of
her. It belonged to that other life which she had found too hard to
endure. Vain regrets and futile longings--she would have none of them.
She had chosen her lot, she would abide by the choice. Yes, and she
would do her duty also, whatever it might entail. Ralph should never
know, never dimly suspect. And that other--he would never know either.
His had been but a passing fancy. He trod the way of ambition, and there
was no room in his life for anything besides. If she had shown him her
heart, it had been but a momentary glimpse; and he had forgotten
already. She was sure he had forgotten. And she had desired that he
should forget. He had penetrated her stronghold indeed, but it was only
as it were the outer defences that had fallen. He had not reached the
inner fort. No man would ever reach that now--certainly, most certainly,