could hardly make her way through the choked arcade leading to the Mosque; the crowd is immense and tumultuous; and a company of the Dragoons is gone forth to open the way and maintain order. “But I don’t think they are going to succeed,” she added. Silently, impassively, Khalid hears this. And after going through the second course, eating as if he were dreaming, he gets up and leaves the table. Mrs. Gotfry, somewhat concerned, orders her last course, takes her thimble-full of coffee at a gulp, and, leaving likewise, hurries upstairs and calls Khalid, who was pacing up and down the hall, into her room.
“What is the matter with you?”
“Nothing, nothing,” murmured Khalid absentmindedly.
“That’s not true. Everything belies your words. Why, your actions, your expression, your silence oppresses me. I know what is disturbing you. And I would prevail upon you, if I could, to give up this afternoon’s business. Don’t go; don’t speak. I have a premonition that things are not going to end well. Why, even my dragoman says that the Mohammedan mob is intent upon some evil business. Be advised. And since you are going to break with your associates, why not do so now. The quicker the better. Come, make up your mind. And we’ll not wait for the morning train. We’ll leave for Baalbek in a special carriage this afternoon. What say you?”
Just then the brass band in front of the Hotel struck up the Dustur march in honour of the Sheikhs who come to escort the Unionist Deputies and the speaker to the Mosque.
“I have made up my mind. I have given my word.”
And being called, Mrs. Gotfry, though loath to let him go, presses his hand and wishes him good speed.