Raie blushed to the roots of her hair. “My young man would not throw me over,” she said playfully, and quickly changed the subject. With a somewhat forced carelessness she inquired if her mother were getting more used to the place.
“Getting used to the place?” repeated Mrs. Emanuel, in her usual high-pitched voice. “I shall never get used to Haifa if I live to be a hundred. When I want to be in bed, I’ve got to get up because it’s cool, and when I want to be up and about, I’ve got to go to bed because it’s hot. And as soon as I move out of doors I’m pestered with a lot of Moslem beggars, until I come home without a farthing in my pocket. What with the difference in the food, and the water that isn’t fit to drink, and the funny people with their silly jargon, and the stupid currency, which gives me a headache every time I have to buy anything, and the peculiar mode of living, it’s enough to turn one’s hair grey. Besides, the place is overcrowded. Palestine is too small for all the people who want to settle down here.”
Raie could not resist a smile.
“There is bound to be a little overcrowding until the people are more dispersed,” she returned convincingly. “When the other towns are ready to receive them they will leave the larger cities. There are building operations going on all over the country, and in a few years Palestine will be extended to double its present area. So you see there will be room for everybody, mother.”
“Give me Canonbury,” continued Mrs. Emanuel, following her own train of thought. “I would rather live in the Petherton Road than anywhere else in the world;” and no amount of persuasion or argument would make her think otherwise. She was too old to bear transplanting successfully, Raie thought.
She found her foster-aunt and Lionel in the morning-room when she returned to the Government House an hour later. They were engaged in a desultory conversation, for Lady Montella was writing, but a few words reached her as she passed down the corridor. Her heart seemed to leap, and she paused irresolute at the door; for they made mention of her lover’s name.
“Anne declares she has seen Ferdinand in the town,” Lionel was saying, as he put down the newspaper he was reading; “but why should Ferdinand come to Haifa? And if he did come, would he not seek us out?”
Then seeing Raie’s figure framed in the doorway, he spoke of something else, but not before the girl had had time to hear.
“Ferdie will have to be careful when he comes back, or he will be discovered,” she thought, as she advanced farther into the room.
It was a very difficult matter to elude the lynx-like eye of the old nurse, Anne.