He let his captors wait for him while he stared straight at her, sparing her no fragment of embarrassment.
"I slew a man once to save thee, sahiba!" he mocked.

"Why slink away?
Have I ever been thy enemy ?" Then he folded his arms and walked off between his guards, without even an acknowledgment of Alwa's or any other man's existence on the earth.
Alwa spat as he wiped blood from his long sabre.

He imagined he was doing the necessary dirty work out of Miss McClean's sight; but, except hospital nurses, there are few women who can see dry blood removed from steel without a qualm; she had looked at Alwa to escape Jaimihr's gaze; now she looked at Jaimihr's back to avoid the sight of what Alwa was seeing fit to do.

And with all the woman in her she pitied the prisoner, who had said no less than truth when he claimed to have killed a man for her.
She knew that he would have killed a thousand men for her with equal generosity and equal disregard of what she thought was right, and she did not doubt that he would think himself both justified and worthy of renown for doing it.

She could have begged his release that minute, had she thought for an instant that Alwa would consent, and but for Cunningham.