Helen moved forward, carrying the tray. Zarah glared at her, and yawned until it seemed her scarlet mouth could not bear the strain.
“The coffee,” she said slowly, and rubbed her eyes, just as Helen, with a sharp cry, twisted her foot sideways, pretended to recover her footing, and let fall the tray and its contents with a loud clatter to the floor.
Zarah sprang to her feet with a shout of rage which ended in a yawn, staggered forward a step or two, swung sideways and fell back across the divan, where she lay peacefully, sound asleep.
Helen lay perfectly still, so as not to attract the Arabian’s attention in any way; then, assured that she slept soundly, gathered herself up and stole across to the divan.
“Oh, Yussuf, if you were only here!” she said as she stood looking down at the sleeping girl, wondering what step she should take next; then turned to look out at the night sky.
Outlined against the sky, Yussuf stood in the doorway.
She ran to him and touched his arm, whereupon he smiled as best he could for the distortion of his mouth and put his hands to his forehead, lips and heart.
“She sleeps, Yussuf, soundly. I gave her ten drops!”
Helen whispered the words, though she might have safely shouted them aloud for all the effect they would have had on Zarah.