now that the Europeans come uninvited
to our wedding receptions and make the strange questions!"

Arlee had the grace to blush, remembering her own avid desire to
make her way into one of those receptions, where the doors of the
Moslem harem are thrown open to the feminine world in widespread
hospitality.

The Captain went on, slowly, his eyes upon her, "But she knows that
you are not one of those others and has requested that you do her
the grace to call upon her. I assured her that you would, for I know
that you are kind, and also," with an air of naive pride which Arlee
found admirable in him, "it is not all the world who is invited to
the home of our--our _haut-monde_, you understand?... And then it
will interest you to see how our ladies live in that seclusion which
is so droll to you. Confess you have heard strange stories," and he
smiled in quizzical raillery upon her.

The girl's flush deepened with the memory of the confusing stories
her head was stuffed with; tales of the bloomers, the veils, the
cushions, the sweetmeats, the _nargueils_, the rose baths of the old
_regime_ were jostled by the stories of the French nurses and
English governesses and the Paris fashions of the new era. She had
listened breathlessly, with her eager young zest in life, to the
amazing and contradictory narrations of the tourists who were every
whit as ignorant as she was, and her curiosity was on fire to see
for herself. She felt that a chance in a thousand had come her lucky
way.

"I shall be very glad to call," she told him, "just as soon as I
return from the Nile."

His face showed his disappointment--and a certain surprise. "But not
before?"

"Why, I go to-morrow morning, you know," said Arlee. "And----"

"It would be better--because of the invitation," he said slowly,
hesitantly, with the air of one who does not wish to importune. "My
sister would like to ask for one who is known personally to herself.
She thought you could render her a few minutes this afternoon."

"This afternoon?" Arlee thought quickly. "I ought to be packing,"
she murmured, "my things aren't all ready.... And Mrs. Eversham is
at the bazaars again and dear knows when she will be back."

Just for an instant a spark burned in the black eyes watching the
girl, and then was gone, and when she raised her own eyes, perplexed
and considering, to him, she saw only the same courteously
attentive, but faintly indolent regard as before. Then the young man