"There are a dozen who would do this for me, who pray every day that they may do so.

What are all these things beside the love of my master ?" He looked at her a little sadly, yet without any sign of real feeling.
To him she represented nothing more than a doll with brains, from whose intelligence he had profited, but of whose beauty he was weary.
"You know what our poet says, Nita," he reminded her.

"'Love is like the rustling of the wind in the almond trees before dawn.' We cannot command it.

It comes to us or leaves us without reason." She looked across the auditorium once more and spoke with her head turned away from her companion.
"There is no one in the East," she said, "because those who write me weekly send news of my lord's doings.

There is no one in the East, because there they give the body who know nothing of the soul.