her vigorous supple body
beneath the thin material, and the expert rapidity of her hands as she
prepared the simple meal of stew and young figs in syrup, red wine and
coffee with candied dates, was sheer ecstasy for him. He would sit in
the dusk of the window, sprawling in his chair, his head sunk on his
breast, breathing heavily as he devoured every motion with his eyes. It
never occurred to him to wonder what she was thinking about as she
worked with her eyes cast down towards the white table or turning
towards the door to call in musical plangent accents to the old woman in
the kitchen below. She was an object of love and for him had no
existence outside of his emotional necessities. He asked in lazy
contentment if she regretted Athens. Her eyes, declined upon the table,
were inscrutable as she reflected that the young Jew was even then in
the city finding out for her whether any officers had arrived from
Aidin. "We'll have a house like this, in England," he remarked, smiling.
"And you will forget all about Saloniki, eh?"

He would expect this, of course, she thought. It was the duty of a woman
selected by a romantic to forget everything in the world except himself.
She was thinking of Saloniki even as she smiled into his eyes and
nodded. And Saloniki was thinking of her. It was at this hour that Mrs.
Dainopoulos said to her husband:

"You are sure they reached port safe?"

Mr. Dainopoulos, who had heard, by his own intricate and clandestine
methods, of the unconventional arrival of his ship in Giaour Ismir, and
who was not bothering himself very much about either Evanthia or Mr.
Spokesly since both had served his turn, remarked:

"Yes, all safe."

"You know, Boris, I should never forgive myself if anything happened to
her. If he did not marry her as soon as they got on shore. I did it for
the best. Encouraged it, I mean. I do believe he was trustworthy."

"Don't you worry, Alice," he said gruffly. "You'll see that girl again.
What you like I get you? I done a beeg business to-day."

"What was that? How much?" she asked with assumed interest. She did not
want to know, but she knew he liked her to ask.

"Oh, the British give me the paper for a big cargo I got for 'em. You
count this, now: _Thirty--five--thousand--pound_. Eh? Ha--ha!" He leaned
forward and covered her hands with kisses murmuring: "My little wife! My
little wife! What shall I buy my little English wife, eh?"

And when Mr. Spokesly asked Evanth