added, "that may not interest you. The story
probably bored you at first, but having told you the original tale, I
had to add the sequel. What I really wanted to ask you, is to present me
to the wonderful American girl. You will, won't you?"

Benton's back was turned to the window. He wiped his forehead with his
handkerchief and stared at nothing.

"You will, won't you?" repeated the boy.

"Oh, yes, of course," Benton replied mechanically. "I shall ask
permission to do so."

Outside on the terraced veranda, where one sips tea and overlooks one of
the most varied human tides that flows through any street of the world,
Benton and Cara sat at a table near the edge--the man wondering how he
could tell her. Fakirs with spangled shawls from Assouit, bead
necklaces, ebony walking-sticks, scarabs and souvenir postcards jostled
on the sidewalk to pass their wares over the railing. Fat Arab guides
with red fezes and the noisy jargon of half-mastered French and English
discussed to-morrow's journeys with industrious globe-trotters.

On the tiles squatted a juggler from India. Under his white turban his
glittering, beady eyes appraised the generosity of his audience as he
arranged his flat baskets, his live rabbits and his hooded cobras for an
exhibition of mercenary magic.

Along the street, heralded with tom-toms, came a procession of lurching
camels, jogging donkeys, rattling carriages, acrobats leading dog-faced
apes and trailing Arabs in fezes--the pomp and pageantry of a pilgrim
returning from Mecca. Motors, victorias, detachments of cavalry swept by
in unbroken and spectacular show.

Benton sat stiffly with his jaw muscles tightly drawn and his eyes
dazed, looking at the girl across the table.

She turned from the street, eyes still sparkling with the reflected
variety of the picture that hodge-podged Occident and Orient,
telescoping the dead ages with to-day.

"Oh, I love things so," she laughed. "I'm as foolish as a child about
things that are new."

With another glance at the shifting tide, she added seriously: "And
every silly Oriental of them all is free to go where he pleases--to do
what he pleases. I would give everything for freedom, and they have
it--and don't value it!"

Then she saw the hard strain of his face. Slowly her own eyes lost the
glow of pleasurable interest and saddened with the realization of being
barred back from life.

The man bent forward. His fingers tightened on the edge of the tab