When she learned that this was improbable she was relieved.

His death had turned the improbable into the impossible.

It was the end of the matter.

She was so glad! Yet there must have been some tender passage in their brief intercourse.
He must have kissed her during their flight from home to steamer.

Her young pulses must have throbbed a little faster at the sight of his comely face.
What kind of a mythological being am I housing?
Did she come at all out of Hamdi Effendi's harem?
Is she not rather some strange sea-creature that clambered on board the vessel and bewitched the miserable boy, sucked the soul out of him, and drove him to destruction?
Or is she a Vampire?
Or a Succubus?
Or a Hamadryad?
Or a Salamander?
One thing, I vow she is not human.
If only Judith were here to advise me! And yet I have an uneasy feeling that Judith will suggest, with a certain violence that is characteristic of her, the one course which I cannot follow: to send Carlotta back to Hamdi Effendi.