"But, Lindy!" gasps Sadie. "To such a place, with such a man!"
"He is my husband, you know," says she.
And Lindy seems to think when she's put that over that she's said all there was to say on the subject. Sadie protests and threatens and begs. She reminds her what a deep-dyed villain this Carlos party is, and forecasts all sorts of dreadful things that will likely happen to her if she follows him off. But it's all wasted breath.
And all the while Pasha Dar Bunda, alias Don Carlos Vogel, stands there smilin' polite and waitin' patient. But in the end he walks out triumphant, with Lindy, holdin' her little black bag in one hand and her old umbrella in the other, followin' along in his wake.
Then last Friday we went down to one of them Mediterranean steamers to see 'em actually start. And, say, this slim, graceful party in the snappy gray travelin' dress, with the smart lid and all the gray veils on, looks about as much like the Lindy we'd known as a hard-boiled egg looks like a frosted cake. Lindy has bloomed out.
"And when we get to El Kurfah guess what Carlos is going to give me!" she confides to Sadie. "A riding camel and Batime. He's one of the best camel drivers in the place, Batime. And I have learned to salaam and say 'Allah il Allah.' Everyone must do that there. And in our garden are dates and oranges growing. Only fancy! There will be five slaves to wait on me, and when we go to the palace I shall wear gold bracelets on my ankles. Won't that seem odd? It's rather warm in El Kurfah, you know; but I sha'n't mind. Early in the morning, when it is cool, I shall ride out into the sandhills with Carlos. He is going to teach me how to shoot a lion."
She was chatterin' along like a schoolgirl, and when the boat pulls out of the slip she waves jaunty to us. Don Carlos, leanin' over the rail alongside of her, gazes at her sort of admirin'.
"El Kurfah, eh?" says I to Sadie. "That's missin' the Old Ladies' Home by some margin, ain't it?"