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 "I don't even know how he looks," she replied. "I have not favoured him with a glance. He has not been able to make me speak to him, and you know that according to our laws, so long as I remain silent, he has no rights over me."

"Do you mean to keep it up till he becomes discouraged and divorces you?"

Before she had time to answer, one of her slaves came in.

"The tchelebi [master] is asking if he may see you."

I rose to leave the room.

"Don't go," she begged.

I sat down, a very uncomfortable little person. Nashan crossed her slender hands on her lap and waited. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the floor; her lips compressed, as for eternal silence.

He came in. I do not know why I expected to see a grown-up man, with man's tyrannical power stamped on his brutal features. What entered was a boy, a timid moustache sprouting on his lip. He was tall and good-looking, but almost paralysed with shyness.

He looked at nothing except his wife, and his face shone with all the love he felt for her, with all the dreams he must have made about this one woman, whom he had never seen till the day of his wedding.

We are apt to think only of the woman's side, and few of us ever give a thought to what may