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Updated: May 9, 2025
Well, the sailors were waiting, and even that bronze Hamza could not pray for ever. Isaacson dipped the pen in the ink, and wrote. "That's for the lady," he said, giving the note to Hassan. As Hassan went down the stairs, holding up his djelabieh, Isaacson got up and looked once more over the rail. His eyes met the eyes of Hamza. But Hamza did not salute him.
Ibrahim came up and stood beside her, looking down in his very gentle and individual way. He smoothed the front of his djelabieh, lifted his rose, smelt it, and said in his low contralto voice: "We are goin' across the river, my lady." "Are we?" "We are goin' to take our lunchin'; we are goin' to be out all day." "Oh! And what about tea?"
Had the approach of the golden noontide laid a spell upon his lips? They went on, and on, and on. "This is the lunchin'-place, my lady." At last Ibrahim pulled up his donkey, and slid off, drawing his djelabieh together with his brown hands. "Ss ss ss ss!" Hamza hissed, and Mrs. Armine's donkey stopped abruptly. She got down.
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