wind, which blew waywardly over the sands, now
rising in a gust that was almost fierce, now dying away into a calm that
was almost complete, failed suddenly, and she heard a frail sound which,
by its very frailty, engaged all her attention. It was a reiteration of
the sound which she thought she had heard as she waited outside the
tent, and this time she was no longer in doubt. It was the cry of an
instrument of music, a stringed instrument of some kind, plucked by
demure fingers. The cry was repeated. A whimsical Eastern melody, very
delicate and pathetic, crept to her from without.

It suggested to her--women.

Her hands became inert, and her fingers dropped from the tent-pegs. She
thought of the other tent, of the smaller tent she had seen, standing
apart near Baroudi's. Who was living in that tent?

The melody went on, running a wayward course. It might almost be a
bird's song softly trilled in some desolate place of the sands, but--

It died away into the night, and the night wind rose again.

Mrs. Armine got up from her knees. Her hands were trembling no longer.
She no longer wished to go.

"Arrange some of those cushions for me, Baroudi," she said. "I am tired
after my ride."

He had not moved from where he had been standing when she came in, but
she noticed that his long pipe had dropped from his hand and was lying
on the carpet.

"Where shall I put them?" he asked, gravely.

She pointed to the side of the tent which was nearest to the smaller
tent.

"Against the silk, two or three cushions. Then I can lean back. That
will do."

She unbuttoned her fur jacket.

"Help me!" she said.

He drew it gently off. She sat down, and pulled off her gloves. She
arranged the cushions with care behind her back. Her manner was that of
a woman who meant to stay where she was for a long time. She was
listening intently to hear the music again, but her face did not show
that she was making any effort. Her self was restored to her, and her
self was a woman who in a certain world, a world where women crudely,
and sometimes quite openly, battle with other women for men, had for a
long time resolutely, successfully, even cruelly, held her own.

Baroudi watched her with serious eyes. He picked up his pipe and let
himself down on his haunches close to where she was leaning against her
cushions. The night wind blew more strongly. There was no sound from the
other tent. When Mrs. Armine knew that the wind must drown tha