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 CHAPTER VII

IN THE HOLLOW OF ALLAH'S HAND

My visits to Djimlah continued, and her daring spirit was a continual delight to me. I had never seen her afraid of anything, and she did pretty much as she chose. One day when I was visiting her, a tremendous thunder-storm broke out, and I said to her:

"Oh, Djimlah, let us go out in your grounds and watch the storm. They never let me do that at home, and I do so want to find its roots."

She did not accept the proposal with alacrity. "It will rain hard in a minute," she objected, "and we shall get wet. I hate to look like a rat—and all the curl will come out of my hair."

"I believe you are afraid, like the other women," I mocked her. "Maybe if you had a European bed in your home you would go and hide under it."

She rose majestically: "Come, we will go and see whether I am afraid."

We went out, bent on finding the beginning of the storm. I always thought that a storm must have a beginning; and from the windows of my