It was one of his cigarettes that she was smoking. She had always been
powerfully affected by the influence of smell, which induced
recollection with her to an extraordinary degree, and now the uncommon
penetrating odour of the Arab's cigarettes brought back all that she
had been trying to put out of her mind. With a groan she flung it away
and buried her face in her arms. The past rose up, and rushed,
uncontrolled, through her brain. Incidents crowded into her
recollection, memories of headlong gallops across the desert riding
beside the man who, while she hated him, compelled her admiration,
memories of him schooling the horses that he loved, sitting them like a
centaur, memories of him amongst his men, memories more intimately
connected with herself, of his varying moods, his swift changes from
savage cruelty to amazing gentleness, from brutal intolerance to sudden
consideration. There had even been times when he had interested her
despite herself, and she had forgotten the relationship in which they
stood towards each other in listening to his deep, slow voice, till a
word or a gesture brought back the fact vividly. Memories of moments
when she had struggled against his caresses, and he had mocked her
helplessness with his great strength, when she had lain in his arms
panting and exhausted, cold with fear and shrinking from his fierce
kisses.
She had feared him as she had never believed it possible to
fear. His face rose before her clearly with all the expressions she had
learned to know and dread. She tried to banish it, striving with all
her might to put him from her mind, twisting this way and that,
writhing on the soft sand as she struggled with the obsession that held
her. She saw him all the time plainly, as though he were there before
her. Would he pursue her always, phantom-like? Would the recollection
of the handsome brown face haunt her for ever with its fierce eyes and
cruel mouth? She buried her head deeper in her arms, but the vision
persisted until with a scream she started up with heaving chest and
wild eyes, standing rigid, staring towards the south with a desperate
fixedness that made her eyeballs ache. The sense of his presence had
been terribly real. She dropped on to the ground again with an
hysterical laugh, and pushed the thick hair off her forehead wearily.
Silver Star laying his muzzle suddenly on her shoulder made her start
again violently with heavy, beating heart. A frightened look went
across her face. "I'm nervous," she muttered, looking round with a
little shiver. "I shall go mad if I stay here much longer." The little
oasis that she had hailed so joyfully had become utterly repugnant and
she was impatient to get away from it. She climbed eagerly into the
saddle, and, with the rapid motion, she regained her calm and her
spirits rose quickly.