You are not of less value than the good horse between the rider's knees, or the faithful hound that runs at his side." A thought rose in Rosamund's mind--a new and terrible thought.
The eyes of the two women met, and those of Rosamund asked, "Which ?" anxiously as once in the moonlight she had asked it with her voice from the gate above the Narrow Way.

Between them stood a table inlaid with ivory and pearl, whereon the dust from the street had gathered through the open lattice.

Masouda leaned over, and with her forefinger wrote a single Arabic letter in the dust upon the table, then passed her hand across it.
Rosamund's breast heaved twice or thrice and was still.

Then she asked: "Why did not you who are free go with him ?" "Because he prayed me to bide here and watch over the lady whom he loved.

So to the death--I watch." Slowly Masouda spoke, and the heavy words seemed like blood dropping from a death wound.