“Oh, my son, my son!” she exclaimed, pityingly.
But he smiled with serene happiness, and taking a wisp of her meagre hair between his finger and thumb gently rubbed it.
“The gods be with you,” he said, “as they are with me.”
WHEN THE GREEN ROSES CAME
To
Trevor Johns
THERE are only two people in this story: Zuleika, a large, indeed massive, Jewess from Bucharest, and a rather elderly English diamond merchant with a slight body and a white moustache.
For some odd reason—largely, I think, because he was both infinitely courteous and gaily reckless—he attracted me, and, because I had been some considerable time in Salonika and he had only just arrived, he requested me to “show him round.” Before proceeding to do so, I asked him what were the three things in the world he loved most of all. He replied at once: “Animation, colour, and women.”