going?" he said once more, as if he had not heard her.

The man who was working by the shaduf cried out no more. No more did
Mrs. Armine see, at the end of the long and narrow alley, behind the
fretwork of shining, pointed leaves, the lateen sails go by. And the
withdrawal of the crying voices and of the gliding sails seemed to leave
this orange-garden at the very end of the world. The golden peace of the
noon wrapped it as in a garment, the hem of which was wrought in
geranium-red, in shining green, and in yellow turning to gold. But in
this peace she was conscious of the need to struggle if she would dwell
in safety. Soft seemed this garment that was falling gently about her.
But was it not really deadly as a shirt of Nessus, the poison of which
would penetrate her limbs, would creep into her very soul?

It was, perhaps, a little thing, this question of the going, or not, of
her maid, but she felt that if she resisted his will in this matter she
would win a decisive battle, obtain security from a danger impending,
whereas if she yielded in this she would be yielding the whole of her
will to his.

"I won't yield!" she said to herself.

And then she looked at the brigand beside her, and something within her,
that seemed to be the core of her womanhood, longed intensely to yield.

She had wished to get rid of Marie. Quite without prompting she had
decided that very morning to send Marie away. Then how unreasonable it
would be to refuse to do it just because he, too, wished the girl to go!

"Why do you want her to go?" she asked slowly, with her eyes upon him.
"How can it matter to you whether my maid goes or stays?"

He only looked at her, opened his eyes widely, and laughed. He took
another cigarette, lit it, and laughed again quietly, but with surely a
real enjoyment of her pretence of ignorance, of her transparent
hypocrisy. Nevertheless, she persisted.

"I can't see what such a thing can possibly have to do with you, or why
it should interest you at all."

"I will find you a better maid."

"Hamza--perhaps?" she said.

"And why not Hamza?"

He looked at her, and was silent. And again she felt a sensation of
fear. There was something deadly about the praying donkey-boy.

"When is that girl going?"

Mrs. Armine opened her lips to say, "She is not going at all." They
said:

"I intend to get rid of her within the next few days. I always intended
to get rid of her."

"Yes?"

"She isn't really a good m