CHAPTER XX
On one of the terraces of his palace the Sultan sat and brooded, his face hard and savage, as he glowered at the scene ahead of him; a harmless scene where night shadows settled on a scented garden with the glint of a lake beyond.
Never in his life had such an indignity been put upon him. Never had anyone dared dispute his right to do what he pleased. Never! Until this English girl had come into his life.
And she had struck him. The Sultan! As if he were some erring menial whose ways had annoyed her.
Under the recollection the man's untamed soul writhed.
She had done as she liked all her life. All that money of hers had given her ideas no woman ought to have. Now she had to learn that he was her master.
She was in the harem now. And there she could stay. A spell there would cool her temper and make her more amenable to his wishes.
The trees in the garden sighed faintly. The soft wind brought the scent of roses and the splash of a fountain.
His mind went back to another garden, in far-away Grand Canary. The echoes of a girl's voice whispered: