The magic of the desert night had closed about them. Cairo, friends,--civilization as she knew it--were left far behind. She, an unbeliever, was in the heart of the trackless wastes with a man whose word was more than law. And yet, he was her slave! "I shall ask nothing of you until you shall love me," he promised. "You shall draw your curtains, and until you call, you shall go undisturbed." And she believed him!
ailing to see that she was genuinely uninterested in other people's male belongings.
Those who think to lure men by the mystery of a tobacco cloud permanently around the head, or to stimulate by the sight of a glass which looks like lemonade but isn't, nestling among the everlasting cards and cigarette debris, disliked her intensely, not so much because she did not ally herself with them, as for the fact that she did not range herself against them, having even been heard to remark that the world would be a deadly dull place is everyone enjoyed the same pleasure and the same wickedness. Just three more items to add to the long list against her on this particular voyage.
Firstly, had she not one sizzling Red Sea day appeared with her hair hanging in two great plaits reaching below her knees? Which escapade might have escaped uncensured if accompanied by the whitish eye-lashes, forceful freckles, and pungent aroma usually allied to reddish hair, but as it was, the combina
My God as a person of color I could only stomach so much racism we are so tired of hearing we are subhuman, kaffirs niggers oh the list goes on. So tired of the white woman being pictured as some perfect being. All wrapped up in sweet little desert romance? Wake up, this book is a peace of vomit!