Her face was turned to me. The lower lip trembled a little. The
dog-look came into those wonderful eyes.

"You will be kind to me?" she said, in her childish
monosyllables, each word carefully articulated with a long pause
between.

I felt I had behaved like a heartless brute, ever since I thrust
her into the cab at Waterloo. I relented and laughed.

"If you are a good girl and do as I tell you," said I.

"Seer Marcous is my lord and I am his slave," was her astounding
reply.

Then I realised that she had been brought up by Hamdi Effendi.
There is something salutary, after all, in the training of the
harem.

"I'm very glad to hear it," I said.

She closed her eyes. I saw now she was very tired. I thought
she had gone to sleep and I looked in front of me puzzling out
the problem. Presently the cab-doors were thrust violently open,
and if I had net held her back, she would have jumped out of the
vehicle.

"Look!" she cried, in great excitement. "There! There's Harry's
name!"