in New York as I promised. I am not in the habit of breaking my
promises, but my life is my own to deal with, and I will deal with it
exactly as I wish and not as any one else wishes. I will do what I
choose when and how I choose, and I will _never_ obey any will but
my own."

Sir Aubrey's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Then I hope to Heaven that one
day you will fall into the hands of a man who will make you obey," he
cried wrathfully.

Her scornful mouth curled still more scornfully. "Then Heaven help
him!" she retorted scathingly, and turned away to her tent.

But, alone, her anger gave way to amusement. It had been something,
after all, to rouse the lazy Aubrey to wrath. She knew exactly the
grievance he had been nursing against her during the last few weeks in
Biskra. Though he travelled perpetually and often in remote and
desolate places, he travelled with the acme of comfort and the minimum
of inconveniences. He put himself out for nothing, and the inevitable
difficulties that accrued fell on Diana's younger and less blase
shoulders. She had always known the uses he put her to and the
convenience she was to him. He might have some latent feelings with
regard to the inadvisability of her behavior, he might even have some
prickings of conscience on the subject of his upbringing of her, but it
was thoughts of his own comfort that were troubling him most. That she
knew, and the knowledge was not conducive to any kinder feeling towards
him. He always had been and always would be supremely selfish. The
whole of their life together had been conducted to suit his
conveniences and not hers. She knew, too, why her company was
particularly desired on his visit to America. It was a hunting trip,