He backed before her as she burst into a torrent of reproach which ended in a storm of abuse.
“ ... Go!” she screamed at the highest pitch of the Arabian voice, which is none too sweet in wrath. “To-morrow at the tournament I will decide what is best to be done with this white woman who is not fit to mingle with my women and children. Yea, even, owing to her dislike of water have we cut her hair so that——”
She screamed and struck at Ralph Trenchard as he caught her by the wrist and pulled her roughly to him.
“What did you say? You’ve cut off Helen’s hair? All that wonderful golden mass! You have dared to do that? Speak, can’t you!”
He flung her on the divan as she laughed and clapped her hands at the sight of his horror-stricken face, and laughed again at the plan for revenge which flashed into her mind.
“So I have prevailed in making you feel, R-ralph Tr-r-enchar-r-d,” she shouted after him as he left the room and ran down the steps, followed by the amazed Nubian.
She ran to the door and laughed until the mountains echoed and re-echoed to the sound, then turned and flung herself on the floor, where she gave way to the violent hysterics of the uncontrolled, jealous woman.