"
"I should like to see something more of Mr. Currie Ghyrkins myself. I do
not believe he is half as bad as I thought. Do you ever go there?"
"Sometimes. Yes, on second thoughts I believe I call on Mr. Currie
Ghyrkins pretty often." Then after a pause he added, "I like her."
I pointed out the confusion of genders. Isaacs must have smiled to
himself in the gloom, but he answered quietly--
"I mean Miss Westonhaugh. I like her--yes, I am quite sure I do. She is
beautiful and sensible, though if she stays here much longer she will be
like all the rest. We will go and see them to-morrow. Here we are; just
in time for dinner. Come and smoke afterwards."
* * * * *
CHAPTER III.
A loose robe of light material from Kashmir thrown around him, Isaacs
half sat, half lay, on the soft dark cushions in the corner of his outer
room. His feet were slipperless, Eastern fashion, and his head covered
with an embroidered cap of curious make. By the yellow light of the
hanging lamps he was reading an Arabic book, and his face wore a puzzled
look that sat strangely on the bold features. As I entered the book fell
back on the cushion, sinking deep into the down by its weight, and one
of the heavy gold clasps clanged sharply as it turned.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59