Sherif el Habib apologized for his speech, while Mohammed bowed his head, grieved that anyone in his caravan should speak so lightly or demand such a great miracle.
Max was in disgrace.
He wandered away and strolled near where the women members of the caravan were encamped.
He walked about, his head bent down, for he was sorry that he had offended his friends.
“What grieveth my brother?” asked a low, sweet voice at his side.
He turned, and a female form stood beside him, heavily veiled.
Coquettishly the veil was removed a little, and he caught a glimpse of Girzilla.
Max was pleased. He felt his heart throb with delight.
He almost envied Ibrahim, and yet he, a white man, could never marry a dark-skinned Arabian.
“Why art thou sad?” Girzilla asked again.