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Burning SandsBy
Arthur Weigall
Author of Madeline of the Desert, Etc.
Illustrated With Scenes From The Photoplay A Paramount Picture Directed by George Melford
Grosset & Dunlap Publishers New York
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1921. By Dodd, Mead And Company, Inc.
Printed in U. S. A.
Contents
CHAPTER I A STUDY IN BEHAVIOUR CHAPTER II THE FREEDOM OF THE DESERT CHAPTER III THE WORLD AND THE FLESH CHAPTER IV A JACKAL IN A VILLAGE CHAPTER V FAMILY AFFAIRS CHAPTER VI TOWARDS THE SUNSET CHAPTER VII THE DESERT AND THE CITY CHAPTER VIII THE ACCOMPLICE CHAPTER IX ON THE NILE CHAPTER X "FOR TOMORROW WE DIE" CHAPTER XI THE OASIS IN THE DESERT CHAPTER XII THE HELPMATE CHAPTER XIII THE NEW LIFE CHAPTER XIV THE COURT PHILOSOPHER CHAPTER XV A BALL AT THE GENERAL'S CHAPTER XVI AT CHRISTMASTIDE CHAPTER XVII DESTINY CHAPTER XVIII MAN AND WOMAN CHAPTER XIX THE SEEDS OF SORROW CHAPTER XX PRIVATE INTERESTS CHAPTER XXI THE CLASH CHAPTER XXII THE CALL OF THE DESERT CHAPTER XXIII THE NATURE OF WOMEN CHAPTER XXIV THE GREAT ADVENTURE CHAPTER XXV BREAKING LOOSE CHAPTER XXVI THE STOLEN HOUR CHAPTER XXVII THE FLIGHT CHAPTER XXVIII THE SURPRISING FORTNIGHT CHAPTER XXIX IN THE PRESENCE OF DEATH CHAPTER XXX THE REVOLT CHAPTER XXXI PAYING THE PRICE CHAPTER XXXII THINKING THINGS OVER CHAPTER XXXIII THE RETURN
CHAPTER I A STUDY IN BEHAVIOUR
The music ceased. For a full minute the many dancers stood as the dance had left them, stranded, so to speak, upon the polished floor of the ballroom, clapping their white gloved hands in what seemed to be an appeal to the tired musicians to release them from their awkward situation. The chef d'orchestre rose from his chair and shook his head, pointing to the beads of moisture upon his sallow forehead. Two or three couples, more merciful than their companions, turned and walked away; and therewith the whole company ceased their vain clapping, and, as though awakened from an hypnotic seizure, hastened to jam themselves into the heated, chattering mass which moved out of the brilliantly lighted room and dispersed into the shadows of the halls and passages beyond.
Lady Muriel Blair, to all appearances the only cool young person in the throng, led her perspiring partner towards a group of elderly women who sat fanning themselves near an open window, beyond which the palms could be seen redundant in the light of the moon. An enormous bosomed matron, wearing a diamond tiara upon her dyed brown hair, and a rope of pearls about her naked pink shoulders, turned to her as she approached, and smiled upon her in a patronizing manner. She was the wife of Sir Henry Smith Evered, Commander in chief of the British Forces in Egypt; and her smile was highly valued in Cairo society.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself, my dear," she said, taking hold of the girl's hand. "But you mustn't get overtired in this heat. Wait another month, until the weather is cool, and then you can dance all night."
"Oh, but I don't feel it at all," Lady Muriel replied, looking with mild disdain at her partner's somewhat limp collar. "Father warned me that October in Cairo would be an ordeal, but so far I've simply loved it."
Her voice had that very slight suggestion of husky tiredness in it which has a certain fascination. With her it was habitual.
"You've only been in Egypt twenty four hours," Lady Smith Evered reminded her. "You must be careful."
"Careful!" the girl muttered, with laughing scorn. "I hate the word."
Her good looking little partner, Rupert Helsingham, ran his finger around the inside of his collar, and adjusted his eyeglass. "Let's go and sit on the veranda," he suggested.
Lady Muriel turned an eye of mocking enquiry upon the General's lady, who was her official chaperone (though the office had little, if any, meaning); for, in a strange country and in a diplomatic atmosphere, it was as well, she thought, to ascertain the proprieties... Continue reading book >>
