Mary, dear," happily whispered the woman. "She came with me to
welcome you." And then she clasped her hands at the blaze of anger
which swept the man's face.

"Most gracious Mother, I am master of my house, and, save for your
ever-esteemed, ever-desired presence, I cannot have woman set foot in
it without my consent. When I have the desire for one as wife,
plaything or servant, then I will give orders."

"But, Hugh, Mary is your sister!"

"Mary is my sister, and I do not deem it wise or seemly that she should
run about the country at her own wish or whim."

"But, Hugh,------"

"Dear, let me speak. I saw so much of woman in Europe that the
yashmak, the barku, the seclusion and modesty of the East have become
dear to me above all else. Have you forgotten, dear, the restaurants,
the theatres, the parks and, Allah! the streets? The half-stripped
bodies, the craving for excitement, the wine, the nights turned into
day! Why, one has but to stretch the hand, for flowers to be laid
therein; the feet trip at every step with the trap of woman's hair; the
quarry stands waiting for the arrow; there is not even the incentive of
the chase, the hot pursuit, the lust of the kill. I speak as my
father's son, and in my house I will have privacy and seclusion and
seemliness. Women shall be brought to me when I desire their
presence." And the steeliness of the voice brought the woman
up-sitting as he gave her an order cloaked in the guise of a favour
begged. "And I shall be glad if you will ask my sister to keep within
the women's quarters until I send for her."

"But----"

And she ripped the corner of her veil between perturbed fingers when,
upon the clapping of hands, a slave ran swiftly to learn his master's
pleasure, then hastened away to find the head body-woman of the
guesthouse assigned to women-visitors.

After which the sweet thrumming of the guitar instantly stopped.

On more than one night they talked under the stars, sitting on satin
cushions, or leaning on the marble fret-work of the balustrade looking
due east to where, so many miles away, flows the blue-green Nile, as it
has flowed through the centuries, all unheeding of the passing of
mighty kingdoms.

And yet had the mother learned nothing of the hurt reflected in her
firstborn's eyes.

"Most precious Mother," he was saying, as he stood flicking the pages
of the latest illustrated paper just arrived from Cairo, but which was
really a volume of the