"I had a good master at school, but a friend of Mrs. De Wolfe's, who was at Cadenabbia, gave me lessons. We went out sketching together, almost every day."
"With a chaperon, of course?"
Nancy shook her head.
"Who was he; had he a name?"
"Certainly he had! Sir Dudley Villars."
"Oh! Some call him 'Prince Charming,' others, 'a Deadly villain.' He is not very young,—but so handsome, isn't he? and a merciless lady-killer."
"Well, here am I, alive and well, so you see he has spared me," said Nancy, who had almost forgotten a certain conversation which had taken place on the low wall, by the Villa Aconati.
Cairo is said to be the most typical Eastern city in the world, and it appealed very strongly to Nancy Travers. The palm trees, the dark faces of a gesticulating voluble throng, the dense blue sky, the warm and golden sun, in some ways recalled India. In February Cairo is socially at its gayest. Nancy and her chaperon were in flattering request.
However, it was not society, but this land of tombs, temples and a river, that engrossed her interest, and fired her warm imagination. One afternoon, towards the end of her stay, as Mrs. De Wolfe and Nancy drove out to the Mena House, behind a dashing pair of long-tailed Arabs, as they sped along Ismail's road, the old lady discussed her plans.