“I’ve stayed too long,” said Daniel. “I must say good-bye at once. I have a lot of shopping to do, and I told my men to meet me with the camels at five o’clock at Mena House.”
“What!—are you going back at once?” exclaimed Rupert Helsingham, adjusting his eyeglass.
“Yes, I’ve had enough of Cairo,” he laughed. “I feel like a fish out of water here, or rather, I feel like a jackal that has ventured into a village and must make tracks over the wall and away. I’ve stolen a square meal and I’m off again.”
He stood at the door smiling at them. He seemed now to radiate imperturbable and rather disconcerting happiness: it was as though he regarded life as a quiet, good-natured comedy, and the friends before him as participators in the fun. His talking about the desert had, as it were, softened his uncouthness, and had made him of a sudden surprisingly intelligible.
“I’m immensely obliged to you for coming,” said Lord Blair, warmly clasping his hand. “In fact I can’t tell you how highly I value your advice and friendship.”
Muriel held out her hand. She saw this man in a new light, and her hostility was temporarily checked. His words had aroused in her a number of perplexing sensations: it was like tasting a new fruit, in part sweet, in part bitter.
“I’ve enjoyed listening to you,” she said, frankly.
“I’ve enjoyed talking to you,” he replied, his voice sinking, but his eyes fixed powerfully upon her.
There was something dominating in his manner which again caused her to be perverse. “I thought you were talking to my father,” she answered casually.
“No,” he said, “I was speaking to you.”