"Is he from your country?" asked Jezebel.
"No, he's an American. I can tell by his accent."
"He is very beautiful," said Jezebel, with a sigh.
"After looking at Abraham, the son of Abraham, and Jobab, for all these weeks I could agree with you if you insisted that St. Ghandi is an Adonis," replied Lady Barbara.
"I do not know what you mean," said Jezebel; "but do you not think him beautiful?"
"I am less interested in his pulchritude than in his marksmanship, and that is positively beastly. He's got sand though, my word! no end. He walked right into that village and took us out from under the noses of hundreds of people with nothing but his little peashooter for protection. That, Jezebel, was top hole."
The golden Jezebel sighed. "He is much more beautiful than the men of the land of North Midian," she said.
Lady Barbara looked at her companion for a long minute; then she sighed. "If I ever get you to civilization," she said, "I'm afraid you are going to prove something of a problem." Wherewith she stretched herself upon the ground and was soon asleep, for she, too, had had a strenuous day.