"You thought I'd put you up?"
"Well, I did think——"
"That I'd fall on your neck and welcome you?"
"Not exactly, but——"
"Well," said Sanders, carefully folding his napkin, "I'm not so glad to see you as all that."
"I suppose not," said the Hon. George, bridling.
"Because you're a responsibility—I hate extra responsibility. You can pitch your tent just wherever you like—but I cannot offer you the hospitality you desire."
"I shall report this matter to the Administrator," said the Hon. George ominously.
"You may report it to my grandmother's maiden aunt," said Sanders politely.
Half an hour later he saw the Hon. George rejoin the ship that brought him to Isisi Bassam, and chuckled. George would go straight to the Administrator, and would receive a reception beside which a Sahara storm would be zephyrs of Araby.