"No, thanks! Arabs never smoke."
"Oh, if you don't, perhaps you would not object to me smoking, in order to assist digestion?"
"Ngema—good—go on, master."
Then began the questions, the gossipy, curious, serious, light questions:
"How came the master?
"By the Mpwapwa road."
"It is good. Was the Makata bad?"
"Very bad."
"What news from Zanzibar?"
"Good; Syed Toorkee has possession of Muscat, and Azim bin Ghis was slain in the streets."