Pansy turned a slender, disdainful shoulder on the scene.
But if she did not look in the direction of the group, there was one at least who kept a sharp suspicious eye on her.
By the Sultan's side Rayma sat, with her pointed chin resting upon his knee.
"Why haven't you come sooner to see that new slave of yours, Casim beloved?" she asked, pointing a slim finger at the distant girl.
"I've had other things than women to think about," he replied evasively.
A bitter reminiscent smile curved his lips as he spoke. Some words of Pansy's were in his mind.
"So long as it's 'women,' it's all right. The trouble starts when it comes to 'woman.'"
Certainly for him the trouble had started when it came to "woman"; when this slender, wayward, golden-haired girl came into his life. For she had robbed all other women of their sweetness.
With longing his gaze rested on Pansy.
What a fool he was not to take her.—To let her whim come between himself and his desires.