Merton only grinned and went on counting his cartridges.
Regina, left alone in her tent, sat down and pressed both her clasped hands on her knees. She was thinking of her love for Everest and how absolutely it made her his slave. She recalled the image of him as he had stood there a few seconds back, practically commanding her to stay in the camp, and realised how impossible it was for her to rebel against him as it would be impossible for her to refuse or deny him anything, as in fact it had always been from the first. And she was inclined to resent this taking away of her will-power and this feeling that it was beneath another's feet, but she was foolish to do so, for in the heart of worship of another is found the extreme of passionate pleasure. Above all she was fortunate, and this she did really feel grateful for, that the empire over her was in such hands as his. Everest was not a commonplace nor an ordinary individual. She had not that intensely painful humiliation of being conquered by an inferior. All her sense of wounded self-love and pride was tempered by her intense admiration of him; physically and mentally in every way he was worthy to command others and exact their obedience. Passion, the slave-driver, had at least made her over to a noble owner.
Immoral he might be called, but she would not say so, it did not seem to her the right word. She knew that almost nowhere, neither in the pages of history nor in the world, are there men to be found of great physical strength and energy combined with powerful mental equipment who have joined to them a rigid morality. That a vigorous and active male animal shall acquire all the unattached females in his vicinity is one of Nature's most general and fundamental laws, and Regina knew it, and that is why she had resisted and resented, as far as she had been able, the vicinity of camp-life that threw Sybil into constant contact with him.
And though he made her suffer frightfully for his own gratification, she did not blame him so blindly as another woman might have done, because she realised it was Nature's fault more than his—Nature who will not give that gift of intense vitality to a man without its accompanying dangers.
That vitality Regina loved and desired for her child. How she longed now to tell him he was the father of the little life that was forming within her! It was such a supreme happiness to her to know that she was bearing his child, something that would be perhaps the beautiful tiny image of himself. It would be a delight intensified if he knew it too. Perhaps, if she delayed, the pleasure of ever saying those happy words would be denied to her. Perhaps this very night he would be taken away from her, and then he would not ever have known that which once at least he had told her he desired so much.
She sprang to her feet, it was such a temptation to speak, to tell him, before he left this evening! But out of pure unselfishness she hesitated. If in reality he wished now after all to abandon her, to put his cousin in her place, she must, must, must leave him, as ever, free to do so, though it killed her.
He might already consider himself in honour bound to marry her, of that she could not be quite sure, but she was certain that he would feel bound if she told him she was to be the mother of his child.
No, she would wait still and be silent. Fate would perhaps reveal to her in some way, soon, the truth of things and how she ought to act.
She dismissed personal thought from her mind and began to gather some things together to take over to Sybil's tent. For, from the first, she had strenuously opposed the girl entering hers. This was the sanctuary of her and Everest's love. She would not have anyone to intrude there. The whole of the camp was public. She wanted one place at least where she could be secure of privacy. She had made a great point of this with Everest, and he had given absolute and stringent orders that neither Sybil nor anyone else was to disturb Mrs. Lanark in her tent. And Regina was grateful. She felt she could not tolerate the hateful presence of Sybil there. Everest was wonderfully good in matters like that, where so many men fail. If Regina expressed a wish, however little of importance it might seem to him, he exerted himself to have it carried out. He never pooh-poohed or waved away her request. If she wished it, that was sufficient. That same obedience he expected from her, he exacted from everybody else to the orders he gave for her sake. Regina was very grateful to him for this. It gave her a position in the camp that was very pleasant, and she knew intuitively that it was a rare quality in men. The small daily wishes of wives are generally, as in her father's case, politely but steadily ignored.
She cleared up the tent, and it was from Sybil's door, some two hours later, that both the girls saw the hunting party start, a small procession of camels, headed by the native guides, scouts and servants with all the necessary guns, ammunition, knives, flasks, water-bottles, flash-lamps, food-baskets, and all the rest of the necessaries for luxurious hunting.