He
killed primarily for her. It was to the feet of Meriem that he
brought the fruits of his labors. It was for Meriem more than for
himself that he squatted beside his flesh and growled ominously at
whosoever dared sniff too closely to it. When he was cold in the
dark days of rain, or thirsty in a prolonged drouth, his discomfort
engendered first of all thoughts of Meriem's welfare--after she had
been made warm, after her thirst had been slaked, then he turned
to the affair of ministering to his own wants.
The softest skins fell gracefully from the graceful shoulders of
his Meriem. The sweetest-scented grasses lined her bower where
other soft, furry pelts made hers the downiest couch in all the
jungle.
What wonder then that Meriem loved her Korak? But she loved him
as a little sister might love a big brother who was very good to
her. As yet she knew naught of the love of a maid for a man.
So now as she lay waiting for him she dreamed of him and of all
that he meant to her. She compared him with The Sheik, her father,
and at thought of the stern, grizzled, old Arab she shuddered.
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