hat, with such a rose of a face beneath the hat, was sheer wanton
cruelty to mankind.

It brought the heart into the throat of one young man who was
reading his paper beneath the striped awning, when he was not
watching, cat-like, the streets and the hotel door. He dropped the
paper with an agitated rustle and half rose to his feet; his eyes,
alert and humorous gray-blue eyes, lighted with eagerness. His hand
flew up to his hat.

He did not need to take it off. She did not even see him. She was
hurrying forward to the steps, following a long, lean Arab, some
dragoman, apparently, in resplendent pongee robes, who opened the
door of a limousine for her. The next instant he slammed the door
upon her, mounted the front seat, and the car rolled away.




CHAPTER III

AT THE PALACE


That limousine utterly routed the tiny little qualm which had been
furtively worming into Arlee's thrill of adventure. Nothing very
strange or out-of-the-way, she thought, could be connected with such
a modern car; it presented every symptom of effete civilization.
Against the upholstery of delicate gray flamed the scarlet
poinsettias hanging in wall vases of crystal overlaid with silver