“I didn’t mean that I was sore in that way.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No. I’m thinking that we were fooled a plenty.”
“How do you mean?”
“By that old black wretch, Assouan.”
“Go on.”
“Haven’t you thought the same thing?”
“Perhaps so; but go ahead and tell me just what you have thought.”
“Why, you know how Assouan met us at the city’s gate just as we were escaping from Damascus.”
“I know.”