"I've never seen you there," she answered, with a deliberate evasiveness.
Claude looked at her for a moment, then looked away over the immense view. It seemed to him that this woman was beginning to understand him too well, perhaps.
"Of course," she added. "There is a sense of mystery in an Arab house. But it's such a different kind. And I think we each have our own particular brand of mystery. Now yours was a very special brand, quite unlike anyone else's."
"I certainly got to love my little house."
"Because it was doing things for you."
Claude looked at her again, and thought how intelligent her eyes were. As he looked at them they seemed to grow more intelligent—as if in answer to his gaze.
"Right things," she added, with an emphasis on the penultimate word.
"But—forgive me—how can you know?"
"I do know. I'm an ignoramus with marvellous instincts in certain directions. That's why a lot of people—silly people, you think, I daresay—follow my lead."
"Well, but—"