Ethel Dell had a horrible night-mare, and sat down and wrote “The Sheik.” At least, that is what we suspect she did, although the author calls itself E. M. Hull. The man laughed a low, sensuous laugh that made everybody shiver. Then he lit another cigarette. There was something about the way he struck them that was perfectly fierce. He was the hero. Her hands groped at her throat. It was almost more than her nerves could bear, but never quite. That is why the story went on. She was like a boy, so horribly young and wildly beautiful. She was the heroine. There were some horses and some servants and a desert somewhere around. But it was all perfectly dreadful. We never finished the tale. It was almost more than she could bear, and entirely too much for us. We hear that “The Sheik” is in its twenty-third printing, and is being produced in the movies.
--The Vassar Miscellany Monthly, Volume 8
