"Na!" said Souleima, unscrewing the top of the mill and looking inside, "that will be enough, I think. We'll have a cup of coffee first, and then some dinner, out here under the tree. Look at those fish. Did you ever see finer barbounia? What do you think I paid an oke for them?"
"Ninety paradhes," suggested Ayesha.
"Only eighty. I bought them of a Greek. Ferende, clean them, that's a good girl, while I make a cup of coffee."
"Clean them yourself. I shall tell the Effendi of these insults when he comes, and he will make you suffer for them."
"Poor Ferende!" cackled Souleima. "He will take off those silk trousers and put them on Panayota. But you shouldn't complain now that your turn has come. Better people than you have been through the same thing."
"If you ever went through it," snapped Ferende, "it was so long ago you can't remember it," and rising disdainfully, she walked into the house. Souleima raised the coffee mill as though to hurl it after her, and then thinking better of the act, let her hand fall to her side.
"Maybe she'll be able to warm Kostakes over again," she reflected aloud.
"I don't believe it," replied Ayesha. "He's crazy about this Greek. I never saw him like this before."
"Then why does he——"
"I don't know. Perhaps he wants the girl to love him."