I may be of use to you, and I am sure I sincerely hope so.
Meanwhile I want to ask you a question, if you will allow me to." I
paused for an answer. We were standing by the open door, and Isaacs
leaned back against the door-post, his eyes fixed on me, half closed, as
he threw his head back. He looked at me somewhat curiously, and I
thought a smile flickered round his mouth, as if he anticipated what the
question would be.
"Certainly," he said slowly. "Ask me anything you like. I have nothing
to conceal."
"Do you seriously think of marrying, or proposing to marry, Miss
Katharine Westonhaugh?"
"I do seriously think of proposing to marry, and of marrying, Miss
Westonhaugh." He looked very determined as he thus categorically
affirmed his intention. I knew he meant it, and I knew enough of
Oriental character to understand that a man like Abdul Hafizben-Isak, of
strong passions, infinite wit, and immense wealth, was not likely to
fail in anything he undertook to do. When Asiatic indifference gives way
under the strong pressure of some master passion, there is no length to
which the hot and impetuous temper beneath may not carry the man. Isaacs
had evidently made up his mind. I did not think he could know much about
the usual methods of wooing English girls, but as I glanced at his
graceful figure, his matchless eyes, and noted for the hundredth time
the commanding, high-bred air that was the breath of his character, I
felt that his rival would have but a poor chance of success.
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