he
grew breathless at the touch of them). "You must come along to my little
city in the hills where the law is the sword of Muley Hafiz."

She looked at him for a moment.

"I almost wish I could," she said and held out her hand.

He took it in the European fashion and bowed over it. She seemed so tiny
a thing by the side of him, her head did not reach his shoulder.

"Good-bye," she said hurriedly and turning, walked back the way she had
come, and he stood watching her until she was out of sight.

Chapter XXXII

"Jean!"

She looked round to meet the scowling gaze of Marcus Stepney.

"I must say you're the limit," he said violently. "There are lots of
things I imagine you'd do, but to stand there in broad daylight talking
to a nigger----"

"If I stand in broad daylight and talk to a card-sharper, Marcus, I
think I'm just low enough to do almost anything."

"A damned Moorish nigger," he spluttered, and her eyes narrowed.

"Walk up the road with me, and if you possibly can, keep your voice down
to the level which gentlemen usually employ when talking to women," she
said.

She was in better condition than he, and he was a little out of breath
by the time they reached the Cafe de Paris, which was crowded at that
hour with the afternoon tea people.

He found a quiet corner, and by this time his anger, and a little of his
courage, had evaporated.

"I've only your interest at heart, Jean," he said almost pleadingly,
"but you don't want people in our set to know you've been hobnobbing
with this infernal Moor."

"When you say 'our set,' to which set are you referring?" she asked
unpleasantly. "Because if it is the set I believe you mean, they can't
think too badly of me for my liking. It would be a degradation to me to
be admired by your set, Marcus."

"Oh, come now," he began feebly.

"I thought I had made it clear to you and I hoped you would carry the
marks to your dying day"--there was malice in her voice, and he
winced--"that I do not allow you to dominate my life or to censor my
actions. The 'nigger' you referred to was more of a gentleman than you
can ever be, Marcus, because he has breed, which the Lord didn't give to
you."

The waiter brought the tea at that moment, and the conversation passed
to unimportant topics till he had gone.

"I'm rather rattled," he apologised. "I lost six thousand louis last
night."

"Then you have six thousand reasons why you should keep on good terms
with me