He had stood without uttering a word, white to the lips during her
tirade.

"Do you think that any white woman would marry you--a _half-caste_?"
had cried the woman, whose bills were coming in in shoals.

"Yes, many," he had quietly answered as he bent to pick up her torn,
handkerchief. "Am I not a rich man?"

He had returned to Egypt upon a visit to the Flat Oasis where dwelt his
parents, who, though noting the indescribable hurt in the eyes of their
firstborn, yet asked no question, for in Egypt a youth is his own
master and ofttimes married at the age of fourteen; how much more,
therefore, is he a man at over twenty years?

He had visited his own house in the Oasis of Khargegh, with the purpose
of putting his stables in order and his falconers through a stiff
catechism, and had finally set out to see something of the world.

Not in a desire to cover his hurt, for he was as stoical as any
high-bred Arab; and, Mohammedan from belief as well as early training,
did not kick against what he looked upon as the commands of Allah.

As for women--well! The sweet, docile woman of his father's race
interested him not at all, so that he refused to listen to any hint
anent the desirability of his taking a wife and establishing the
succession of the House 'an Mahabbha, which is the eldest branch of the
House el-Umbar; and racial distinction barred him from the virile,
lovely women of his mother's race.