Electronic book host

? ? ? ? "God!" he muttered, "what have I done to deserve--" He paused. What had he done? He thought of the girl in another tent in that accursed village. He was getting his deserts. He set his jaws firmly with the realization. He would never complain again! At that moment he became aware of voices raised angrily in the goatskin tent close beside the hut in which he lay. One of them was a woman's. Could it be Meriem's? The language was probably Arabic--he could not understand a word of it; but the tones were hers.

? ? ? ? He tried to think of some way of attracting her attention to his near presence. If she could remove his bonds they might escape together--if she wished to escape. That thought bothered him. He was not sure of her status in the village. If she were the petted child of the powerful Sheik then she would probably not care to escape. He must know, definitely.

? ? ? ? At the bungalow he had often heard Meriem sing God Save the King, as My Dear accompanied her on the piano.


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