“Just look over on the horizon, my dear.”
“At whom?”
“Those now to be seen scooting out of sight across it. The distance is great but I recognize the leading figure clearly as the Sheik Abraham O’Mara. See how fat! And how fast he travels! And yet it has always been said of him there was danger ever when that fiend was abroad. But, it seems he saw us first.”
“Aha, afeard of you, my Amut?”
“Of me,” he chuckled again and again.
For the first time in months the Sheik permitted himself a little bold laughter.
“Of me!”
Once home in the tent the Sheik Amut Ben Butler dared to put his arms out to her. He was no ordinary man to succumb to the fascinations of a woman. You had to hit him first.
But having experienced the metallic obstinacy of Verbeena Mayonnaise, the inflexibility of her character and seeing, as he ecstatically had, the flight of his powerful and avowed enemy, Abraham O’Mara, he was fraught with the realization that love had become a force in his life which might drive him to anything where Verbeena was concerned, predominantly and irresistibly.
He’d be trimming her curls for her next.