desired to attain her end, flung the whip full into the stolid,
indifferent face, and fled, raving obscenities, into the house.




CHAPTER VIII

"_If God in His wisdom have brought close
The day when I must die,
That day by water or fire or air
My feet shall fall in the destined snare
Wherever my road may lie_."

DANTE GABRIEL ROSETTI


"May I come in? Oh, Maris, what _do_ you think? There is to be a real
native fortune-teller in the Winter Garden. They've made the corner
near the fountain like an Arab's tent, and he'll tell us our horoscopes
in the sand, and all sorts of things."

"Not forgetting the stars, let us hope?"

"Oh, there's sure to be that."

Damaris laughed as she turned in her chair and looked at the excited
little visitor in fancy-dress.

"You _do_ look sweet. A Light of the Harem, for certain."